Ginger Snaps Together Again: A Virtual Movie
by Unitarian Jihadist
Summary: Ginger's alive, Brigitte's out of the basement, and they have one last chance to get things right.
1. Chapter 1

**Ginger Snaps Together Again**

**(A Virtual Movie)**

_Ginger's alive, Brigitte's out of the basement, and they have one last chance to get things right._

Disclaimers: Ginger Snaps and associated characters were created by, probably among others, Karen Walton, John Fawcett, Megan Martin, Christina Ray, Stephen Massicotte, Grant Harvey, and the actors who portrayed them, particularly the enormously talented Emily Perkins and Katherine Isabel. The characters are owned, I believe, by Lions Gate Films. The actors who first brought these characters to life are owned by themselves. I use these things without permission, but make no profit but my own entertainment and hopefully the entertainment of others. Being fan fiction, I also use these entities as an attempted tribute for the enjoyment they have given me.

Story format: As I did with a recent attempt at a Buffy virtual episode (with limited success IMO), I am writing this story in present tense format, as if I was describing the action as might be seen on a movie or TV screen. The story is intended as an actual sequel to the first two movies, and I also intend to incorporate material from the third prequel movie. Whether I succeed in this endeavor is up to every individual reader to decide. Heck, at this time I don't even know if I will consider this a success.

Story genesis: I find the character of Brigitte Fitzgerald, particularly as portrayed in the first two movies, to be singularly heroic and noble. She is faced with such overwhelming odds that she is doomed from the start, but she never gives up. I thought she deserved a much better ending than the one given her in GS II (although I thought that ending was very clever and well thought out). So, this story is my take on how Brigitte does when the playing field is leveled so that she actually has a chance.

Disclaimers: I have only been in a corner of Ontario once on a vacation. I don't know Canada, and so I will try to get around it by being as vague as possible.

With all that in mind, here we go…

Prologue:

TORONTO

We see a club off of a fairly busy city street. The club is called the Black Inferno, and hard rock with a heavy bass beat is pumping out through the front double doors (painted red against the black front of the club). In front of the door is a short line occupied by people mostly in their late teens and early twenties, dressed provocatively in black leather and jeans. There are lots of chains and piercings and tattoos among the people in line. Between the doors to the club and the small line of people is a truly immense man, probably 6-7 with massive tattooed arms, long black hair in a ponytail, and a black goatee. He is wearing black jeans, enormous black hiking boots, and an open black leather vest (showing off his massive chest and abs, and of course the vest is sleeveless to show off the aforementioned massive arms). He lets some people in, and turns others away.

A black van pulls up in front of the club. The passenger side door slides open and two people get out. The first person is Ginger Fitzgerald, dressed in a black leather miniskirt, a black sports bra, fishnet stockings (also black), and keeping with the black theme, black boots that come up almost, but not quite, to the knees. Over all of this she wears an open black trench coat. Her hair is red except for the white streaks along the front of her part. Ginger steps out of the van confidently and smiles at the huge doorman. Despite his tough guy look, his lips very briefly turn upward.

The second person to come out of the van is Brigitte Fitzgerald. She stumbles out of the van as if she was shoved, and as she turns and directs an angry look to the interior of the van, we become certain that she was, in fact, pushed out. Brigitte is also wearing a black trench coat, which in her case is belted tightly closed. Brigitte is hunched over, and her arms are crossed as if she is tightly hugging herself. She looks side to side as if she is terrified that someone she knows is going to suddenly appear to strike her dead of embarrassment.

Ginger immediately takes her place at the end of the small line, and Brigitte, with some hesitation, stands behind her older sister. In seconds, the door man motions to the group of three people in front of Ginger and Brigitte to enter the club. The door man, looking Ginger up and down and nodding with approval, then gestures for her to go in. Brigitte, without looking up, moves to follow only to walk into the big man's hand at the level of her chest.

Ginger turns and addresses the door man's back.

"She's with me," she says.

"Not tonight, she's not," The door man says. "She stays out, you go in."

"She says out, I stay out," Ginger says.

The door man shrugs.

"That's too bad," the door man says. "You're hot, but your friend…we have standards here, and it's my job to uphold those standards."

Saying this, the door man turns to look at Ginger and jerks his head towards the street. Ginger walks past him to join Brigitte on the sidewalk in front of the club. Ginger takes Brigitte's arm roughly and walks her quickly about twenty feet down the sidewalk.

"B, you know what Colonel Rowlands will do to us if we fuck _this_ one up," Ginger says in a harsh whisper. "You're already on his shit list, _and_ the shit list for the rest of the pack. Do you _really_ wanna screw this up?"

Ginger tightens her grip on Brigitte's arm.

"Well _do_ you?" Ginger hisses.

"No," Brigitte replies in a soft whisper.

"Then swallow your perverse antisocial pride, quite slumping, and _show the man what you've got_!" Ginger whispers.

In response, Brigitte pulls away from Ginger's grip and walks back to the doorman. Four new would be guests, young geeks futilely trying to look cool, are standing between her and the door man.

"HEY!" Brigitte says with surprising forcefulness as she undoes the belt to her trench coat and opens it to reveal an outfit identical to Ginger's. "Is this what you want to see, fucker?"

The door man nods, his smile brief but genuine. The four guys whistle and howl and applaud.

"Yes to both the new look and the new attitude, girl," he says. "You and your friend can both go in."

As Ginger and Brigitte pass him on the way into the club, the door man looks at the four guys and says with authority, "Not you. We have standards here, and it's my job to uphold those standards."

* * *

As Ginger and Brigitte enter the club, the music becomes louder.

Ginger pulls Brigitte closer and speaks into her ear, talking over the music.

"Our man is usually at the table by the kitchen," she says. "You go over and keep an eye on him while I mingle."

Brigitte glares at Ginger.

"Why don't _I_ go mingle while _you_ go keep an eye on him?" Brigitte asks angrily.

Ginger responds with a look that says _I can't believe that you're serious_.

In response, Brigitte looks away and with a low, embarrassed voice says, "Fine, you go ahead."

Ginger nods once, pats her sister on the shoulder, and turns and moves towards the dance floor.

Brigitte slowly makes her way toward the back of the club, which is extremely crowded. Brigitte is jostled many times as she approaches the bar. She pulls the front of her trench coat back together and starts to hunch over again, as if trying to make herself as small a target as possible. She doesn't notice a handsome young man watching her with interest. The man looks like a Canadian Aboriginal with a small goatee, his long black hair worn in a pony tail down his back. Flouting the club style, he is not dressed in black, but in a checkered blue and white shirt, open in the front to reveal a grey t-shirt and blue jeans tucked into tan cowboy boots.

The bartender, a solidly built tall woman dressed in a black tank top with spiked white hair and a nose ring attached through a chain to a left earring, looks up at Brigitte as she approaches the bar.

"I want a 7-UP," Brigitte says.

The bartender snorts derisively as she fills a small glass with clear, bubbling liquid, but then withholds the glass.

"Five dollars," the bartender says.

Brigitte's eyes widen in disapproving surprise, but she takes a wadded bill out of the pocket of her trench coat and tosses it on the counter. The bartender slides Brigitte her drink, sloshing a good portion of it onto the counter. Brigitte takes her drink. The bartender watches Brigitte as if expecting something more, and even starts to put her right hand out, palm up. But Brigitte has already turned and walked away from the bar.

"Bitch," the bartender says to Brigitte's receding back, none too quietly.

Then she raises her voice and yells, "Next!"

Brigitte continues her walk, now carefully holding onto her drink, to the rear of the club. At the back, the club opens up with an L-shaped turn to Brigitte's right. Brigitte follows the turn to a large, circular table. On the far end of the table, his back to the double doors to the kitchen, sits a large, obnoxious bear of a man speaking loudly in what appears to be Russian. Seated around the table are four other men. The men all look very dangerous, each wearing a long, black trench coat with flat, dangerous looking expressions. All except for the powerful looking man with long sideburns who laughs uproariously at everything the big Russian says. The big Russian wears an open black trench coat over a clean, tight white t-shirt that displays the big man's ample belly. Leaning against the Russian is a pretty but tough looking girl, probably no more than Brigitte's age, with dyed black hair, very pale skin, and very black eye shadow. She is dressed in a black spaghetti strap top that ends well above her navel, and black jeans tucked into long black boots. She is the only one who notices as Brigitte leans against the wall about ten feet from their table. Brigitte hunches over her drink and takes a sip, furtively watching the Russian and his companions. The girl narrows her eyes suspiciously, but then turns her face towards the Russian, smiles, and laughs at the latest thing he says.

Brigitte continues to lean against the wall and take sips of her rapidly diminishing drink. She looks around as if trying to watch several things at once, but truth be told most everyone in the club gives the Russian's table a wide berth, and it becomes rather obvious that the table is the only thing she is in the position to watch.

The girl scowls and, looking at Brigitte, says something to the Russian. The Russian looks up towards Brigitte with a hard but curious expression, then immediately appears to decide she's not worth his continued attention. He shrugs, looks away, and starts to resume talking to his friend with long sideburns. The girl, however, stands up and walks towards Brigitte. She is tall, perhaps a head taller than Brigitte. Brigitte sips on her drink and looks away, but her drink is now obviously empty except for a few melting ice cubes. The girl steps in close and looks down, so that her face is just inches away from Brigitte's.

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here, creep?" the girl asks.

Brigitte looks away, back in the direction of the dance floor, although it can not really be seen from the angle at which she is standing.

"Nothing," Brigitte says. "I'm just having a drink, and watching people party."

"Well go do it somewhere else because you're creeping us out," the girl says loudly, looking around as an audience starts to form around the two of them. "How did you get in here anyway? Jason is supposed to keep out the little creep girls like you."

Brigitte stops looking away and looks straight at the girl. Brigitte is obviously angry, and there is something intimidating about her anger, and the girl takes a small step back, probably without realizing it.

"But I _was_ let in here," Brigitte says. "I'm having a drink and I'm not doing anything but standing against a fucking wall, SO BACK THE FUCK OFF!"

The big Russian stops talking to the man with big sideburns. Both look at the brewing altercation, then look at one another and chuckle. The Russian then looks at the girl and Brigitte.

"Angel!" he calls loudly. "Are you going to let that little slip of a girl talk to you that way?"

In response, the taller girl, Angel, aims a left handed slap at Brigitte's face. Brigitte catches the attempted slap without looking. Then, Brigitte tightens her grip. Angel gasps, and her eyes start to glisten with tears.

"I said…back…the fuck…off…bitch," Brigitte says, her tone remedial as if speaking to a very young and stupid child.

In response, Angel tries in vain to use her right hand to help pull her left arm from Brigitte's grip. As Angel starts to whimper, Brigitte lets go with a slight and mirthless smile. Angel starts to back away, rubbing her left forearm, then suddenly steps forward and kicks Brigitte in the shin, then stomps on Brigitte's foot.

Brigitte's eyes go wide, and her lips purse angrily, and with both hands she pushes Angel in the chest. Since Angel is taller, Brigitte pushes upward, which lifts Angel high into the air. Angel sails over the man with long sideburns, the other three bodyguards, and the table they are all seated at. The Russian follows Angel's trajectory with his eyes as her body slams into the wall, her head striking the ceiling with a hollow thump. Then Angel falls limply but hard onto the table, tipping it over so that both she and the table flop into the big Russian's lap. The Russian looks at the big man with long sideburns, and jerks his head towards Brigitte. Long Sideburns gets up and swiftly hits Brigitte with a very hard left cross, knocking her to her hands and knees. He follows this up with a vicious kick to her gut, which lifts Brigitte into the air. Brigitte falls to the floor, holding her stomach. Other patrons of the club start to gasp, scream, and run away. One of them loudly says "_dude!"_ in a tone of concerned disapproval.

The rock musicians continue to play, but everyone on the dance floor stops to watch the commotion. Ginger, who was dancing in the middle of four young men, has to shove two of her dance partners aside to see what is happening.

She sees Long Sideburns rearing back to kick Brigitte again. She also sees the Russian, clearly enraged as he shoves aside both his shattered table and the limp body of his girlfriend.

"Shit!" Ginger says as she takes what appears to be a cell phone out of her right trench coat pocket. She flips the cell phone open, and without punching any numbers, speaks into it. "Munroe, we've got a problem. We need you in here."

* * *

Outside the club, the black van returns and stops in front of the club. The side door to the van slides open, and two people, a very handsome man with dark brown hair and a strikingly beautiful woman with coffee colored skin, get out at a run. Opening the driver's side door is another handsome man, taller than the man from the side door. This taller man has an extremely irritated and arrogant expression on his face. Jason the door man steps in front of the approaching trio but before he can even say anything, the beautiful black woman grabs his scrotal area with her right hand, and his belt with her left, and lifts him head first into the top of the door frame with such force that there is a sickening crunch. As he drops to the ground, it is obvious that the top of the door man's head has been shattered, and his neck has been broken.

The taller man, the one who got out the driver's side door, looks disapprovingly at the corpse.

"That's a mess you didn't need to leave, Danielle," he says.

Danielle shrinks at the man's disapproving tone.

"I'm really sorry, James," she says, obviously terrified.

James shakes his head dismissively.

"Never mind," he says. "Let's see what trouble Ginger's idiot sister has gotten us all into now."

Danielle relaxes somewhat, and stepping over the dead man, the three enter the club.

* * *

Brigitte rolls and crab walks away from Long Sideburns next attempted kick, then regains her feet. Long Sideburns aims a right jab at Brigitte's face, but Brigitte knocks the punch aside, not like someone blocking a punch, but like someone waving a hand at a buzzing fly. Nevertheless, Brigitte holds onto the sleeve of the man's trench coat, then grabs his belt with her other hand. She lifts the big man over her head and throws him away into a crowd of people, who all fall down yelling and protesting.

"B!" Ginger yells as she expertly punches one the other trench coated bodyguards in the face, knocking him cold. "Quit fucking around and _get Roskoff_!!"

Roskoff the big Russian's eyes go wide upon hearing Ginger's words, and he starts to run towards the double swinging kitchen doors. Brigitte leaps after him, knocking him to the floor with an impressive if awkward tackle.

Meanwhile, the Canadian Aboriginal suddenly appears from out of the crowd behind Ginger and raises his right hand. In his hand is a pistol, held butt out. He pistol whips Ginger, knocking her down. Then he steps over her and turns his gun around to aim it at Brigitte. But before he pulls the trigger, he stops, his expression softening to one of wonder.

"Wait," he says quietly to Brigitte, whose back is to him as she struggles to subdue Roskoff. "I know you. The red and the bl…"

At that moment, Ginger stands up and yanks the Aboriginal's pony tail. He doesn't yell, although his pain shows on his face. Ginger grabs his gun and yanks it out of his hand, tossing it aside.

Ginger has changed, her hair is now a grizzled mix of red and white, and her forehead is now bumpy, while her nose and mouth project ever so slightly. Her teeth, particularly her canines, are noticeably longer.

"Bad mistake, asshole," Ginger says, her speech slightly distorted through her enlarged teeth. "Hitting me with a pistol? Bad. Pointing the pistol at my sister? _Worse_!"

The Aborignal, however, does not panic. He knees Ginger in the stomach and, gripping his pony tail in both hands, pulls it free of her grip. Then he runs into the crowd. Ginger looks as if she is about to pursue, then stops and looks towards her sister instead.

Roskoff has rolled on top of Brigitte, sitting on her. He raises his right fist to strike her and then stops. Brigitte snarls. It is not a human snarl. Her hair is swept back to reveal a pointed ear, and her lips pull back to reveal pointed and projecting canine teeth. Roskoff literally squeals in terror, and hits Brigitte hard in the mouth with his right fist.

"Ow!" Roskoff yells, pulling his hand back. It's bleeding.

Brigitte, her altered face now looking extremely angry, grabs Roskoff and throws him off of her. Unfortunately, he is thrown through the swinging kitchen doors. The sound of clattering pots and pans is heard as one of the doors swings loose from its hinges and falls to the floor.

Brigitte reaches up and gingerly touches her upper left canine tooth, as if expecting it to be loose. She smiles slightly when she finds that it is still there and still solid.

"Jesus _Christ, _Brigitte!" Ginger yells. "He's getting away!!"

"Oh _shit_!" Brigitte says as she gets to her feet. She runs through the kitchen doorway, Ginger now right behind her. The two sisters run through the kitchen and find the back door open. As they run through the back door into the alley, they see a black limo peeling rapidly away. Clearly, the sisters are too late.

"_Fuck!! Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!" _Ginger says. "Rowlands is gonna _kill_ us!"

Brigitte turns towards Ginger, her expression very serious.

"You know that's not true, Ginger," Brigitte says. "Just me. Rowlands is just going to kill _me_."

James, his face a mask of rage, comes through the back door into the alley.

"That is," Brigitte continues. "If your wannabe alpha boyfriend doesn't decide to save him the trouble."

_The scene fades to black, and the opening credits begin._

* * *

Note: It may be awhile before Act 1 shows up. I'm planning on five acts total. And yes, there will be explanations as to how Ginger is alive, and why the Fitzgerald sisters are (sort of) human again.


	2. Act 1

**Act 1**

**Quick note: Here it is, Act 1, sooner than I expected. To Dan and ****middkidash, thanks so much for the feedback. Hopefully, this will satisfy. Don't let my pseudoscientific stuff give you a headache. Remember, it's make believe, which is a nice way of saying BS!**

**With that in mind, here we go…**

Ginger and Brigitte are sitting next to each other in the van. The seats face into the interior of the van, and sitting opposite of them are Danielle and the shorter handsome man. Danielle is looking at Brigitte with undisguised hatred. Ginger leans forward until she is in front of Danielle's line of sight. Danielle immediately looks away.

"You can't protect me forever," Brigitte whispers to Ginger.

"Maybe not," Ginger says. "But I've done all right so far."

_**Flashback**_

_We return to the scene at the end of _**Ginger Snaps Unleashed**_. Ghost is looking at her comic book illustration of her holding a smoking gun, and a werewolf on a leash. The doorbell rings, she smiles and gets up and goes to the door. Underneath the cellar trap door, something immense growls and slams against the door, obviously trying to get out. _

_Ghost runs down the stairs, practically skipping. She opens the door, revealing her heavily bandaged grandmother "Barbara" in a wheelchair and a nurse holding the wheelchair from behind. We don't see the nurse' face. _

"_Come in!" Ghost says, stepping aside. "Welcome home, Barbara!!!"_

_As Ghost steps aside and turns to look in the direction of the trap door, the nurse pushes her bandaged charge into the house and closes the door. The nurse and the grandmother are blurred and indistinct. We see the grandmother in the wheelchair start to get to her feet._

_Our viewpoint changes to behind Ghost, who is looking in the direction of the interior of the house._

"_Hey!" we hear a familiar voice say._

_Ghost turns, and a bandaged left hand darts out and grabs her by the throat and lifts her up into the air. Our view changes again so that we are looking at "Barbara" as she tears off the bandages from her face with her right hand, revealing the features of Ginger Fitzgerald. We pan back and see the nurse is Danielle._

"_So where's my sister, you little fuckbait?" Ginger asks._

_Ghost gasps, obviously finding it difficult to talk with Ginger's hand on her throat._

"_The wolf told her that the sister was dead," Ghost says._

"_Yeah, well," Ginger says. "I got better. Go figure."_

_Coming through the back of the house, dressed in black and armed with futuristic looking rifles, are James Munroe and the other handsome man. The other man jumps aside as the trap door rattles upward with a loud thump, and a deep growl comes from below. _

"_Ginger, I think we've found your sister," the man says. _

_Ginger, still carrying Ghost's futilely kicking form by the throat, walks into the hallway. She sniffs._

"_Yeah, Claude," Ginger says. "That's my B."_

_James sniffs and makes a face. _

"_There's another wolf down there," he says. "Or what's left of one. And your sister's in chrysalis."_

_Ginger sits Ghost down hard on the floor. _

"_Stay there like a good little fuckbait," she says to Ghost. Ginger then reaches behind her back and pulls out a pistol. "Well, we kind of figured that." _

"_So who unlocks the cellar door?" Claude asks. Ginger and James both look at him. Claude looks back, and then looks away and shakes his head. _

"_Shit," he says. _

_Ginger turns to look at Ghost. _

"_So where's the key, fuckbait?" she asks._

_At that moment, the cellar door shatters upward and the huge wolf creature Brigitte has become struggles through the opening with a snarl. The Brigitte beast immediately starts towards Ginger._

_Ginger fires her pistol at Brigitte over and over. Claude and James fire their rifles at Brigitte as well, until she is literally pin cushioned with tranq darts. Brigitte collapses at Ginger's feet._

"_Never mind," Ginger says._

_James looks into the cellar and makes a face. _

"_Man, it stinks down there," he says._

"_Anything left of the other wolf?" Ginger asks._

_Claude, making a face, jumps down into the cellar. A second later, he speaks._

"_No," Claude says from the cellar. "Just bones, chrysalis and wolf. He was probably too far gone to salvage anyway."_

_As Ginger, Danielle, and James all gather around the trap door, Ghost takes that moment to run out of the house. As she runs into the front yard, however, Ghost slows when she hears the sound of approaching police sirens. Suddenly, a hand drops on Ghost's shoulder. _

"_Funny thing, fuckbait," Ginger says. "The police tend to investigate the disappearance of three people from the same treatment facility. Tyler, Alice, my sister. They look around, and they interview all available witnesses. Including your grandmother."_

"_Barbara can't talk," Ghost says. "She keeps Ghost's secrets."_

"_Not when the cops get a speech therapist who can figure out other ways for people to talk other than with their mouths. And Barbara ended up having __**lots**__ of interesting things to say about __**you**__. __**Our**__ problem was talking the cops into letting us come by and do our little pickup before they come to take you away. I bet you'll be real popular where you are going. There's a reason why I've been calling you 'fuckbait', fuckbait."_

_Ghost looks at Ginger._

"_Where is the wolf going?" she asks Ginger in a whisper._

"_Home," Ginger says. "To live with the other wolves."_

We return to the interior of the black van.

"I saved your ass two years ago from the little psycho," Ginger says to Brigitte. "Don't count me out now. Rowlands and I are still tight, and I won't let anything happen to you. You're my sister, B. We're blood, now in more ways than one."

Brigitte nods slightly, but when Ginger turns away, the look on her face is clearly skeptical.

Our view switches to outside the van. We see the van is on a rural highway. It pulls into a driveway with a gate. The gate opens. The sign by the gate says _The Canadian Center for Exotic Disease Control_.

The scene switches again to a large, sterile looking reception room. In the middle of the room, seated behind a large, circular desk, are two security guards, big men in blue uniforms. Entering through glass double doors are Ginger, Brigitte, Claude, and Danielle.

Ginger takes off her black trench coat and puts it over her shoulder.

"If I never see a black trench coat or black leather again, I'll fucking die happy," Ginger says.

Brigitte keeps her trench coat on.

"Let's go to bed, Ginger," she says.

At that moment, James Munroe enters.

"You're not going anywhere, bitch, until you've been debriefed," he says to Brigitte. "You screwed up our best chance to take out Roskoff, and thanks to you he won't be showing his fucking face for years."

With that, he walks up to Brigitte and grabs her by the hair and throws her to the floor.

"On second thought," he says. "I'll just kill your screw-up little ass right here."

The security guards, in response to the altercation, don't even look up.

Ginger steps between James and Brigitte with a growl.

"You gonna fight me for your sister, baby?" James asks. "You really think you'd have a chance?"

Ginger interrupts James' tirade by kissing him hard on the mouth.

James at first seems to accept the kiss, but then pushes her away.

"Ow, you crazy bitch!" he says, his lips bleeding. "Have you looked at yourself lately? You and your sister have both started to change."

"Thought you _liked_ things wild," Ginger replies tauntingly. "You going all domesticated, James? Being a nice company boy? Like Rowlands?"

James immediately flinches.

"Jesus Christ, you _don't_ want him to hear you say that," James says to Ginger quietly. "He's _not _domesticated. He's scarier than you and I combined."

Ginger shrugs.

"Just messing with you, James," she says.

"Well don't," James says. "_He_ likes you, and he lets you get away with shit. But you don't _ever_ want him to change his mind about you."

He turns to look at Brigitte.

"That's why your sister's royally fucked," he says. "She'd be better off if you let me kill her, or if you kill her yourself."

Ginger puts her arms around James' shoulders.

"I've made enough war tonight," Ginger says. "Let's make screw."

Again James pushes Ginger away.

"Get treated first, and we'll see about tomorrow night," James says. "I don't feel like fucking the dog faced girl tonight."

Ginger looks at James.

"Fuck you, Munroe," she says.

Sure," James says. "But later."

Ginger looks at Brigitte.

"C'mon, B," she says. "Let's go get our shots and go to bed."

As Ginger leaves and Brigitte follows, James shouts after them.

"Hey, _B_," he says, clearly mocking Ginger's nickname for her sister. "Did you forget how Roskoff makes his money? He sells _girls_. Ships 'em in from overseas and sells 'em to be _raped. _And thanks to you, his fat ass is free to keep on keepin' on."

* * *

The scene switches to Ginger and Brigitte walking down a long, sterile hallway.

"He's right, Ginger," Brigitte says. "He's a bastard little better than Roskoff himself, but he's right. I let him get away."

"It's not your fault, B," Ginger says, not sounding at all convinced herself. "Things just went south."

"Yeah, it _is_ my fault," Brigitte says. "But then again, it's Rowlands' too. I _told_ him I didn't want to be a fucking spy and assassin. I _told_ him I wasn't cut out for that shit."

"Your choices were be a killer spy, or be dead," Ginger says. "And you can't leave me. You _can't_ leave me alone again."

_**Flashback 2**_

_At first there is blackness and silence._

_Then, we hear muffled voices, very quiet and distorted. We can't make out what the voices are saying. Then, very loudly, there is a liquid cutting sound, like a scalpel cutting through flesh and letting blood and guts spill out. A line of bright light appears in the darkness._

_Now we hear a voice that is recognizably Ginger's. _

"_Are you sure about this, Murphy?" Ginger says. "Maybe it's too soon."_

"_The chrysalis has just died, Miss Fitzgerald," an older male voice replies with irritation. "We can't bring it back now. Your sister's either ready to come out, or she's dead."_

_With a liquid tearing sound, the light now becomes much brighter. So bright it is blinding. _

"_Ah, there she is," Murphy says. _

"_Man, is __**that**__ what I looked like when you pulled me out?" Ginger asks with disgust. _

"_No, Miss Fitzgerald," Murphy replies. "You looked worse." _

_Shapes begin to resolve in the brightness._

"_Turn off the lights, Miss Fitzgerald," Murphy says. "They're hurting your sister's new eyes." _

_The lights go off, but there still appears to be plenty of ambient light. We see an elderly man, short and heavyset, obviously Murphy, and Ginger, her hair much shorter, as if her hair had been shaved maybe three months or so before. _

_Ginger leans over and makes a slight face. _

"_B," she says. "Is that you?"_

_Our view then switches as we look down over Ginger's shoulder. We see the body of the wolf creature, cut open from sternum to well past the belly. The wolf creature's skin is peeled back, and looking up from inside in a pool of blood and guts is the face of Brigitte Fitzgerald, her eyes wide, her head hairless. Her arms and legs are painfully thin, she looks like a famine victim. Brigitte moves her thin arms instinctively to cover herself, but because they are so thin she only partially succeeds. Her body is as thin as the arms and legs, and her head looks correspondingly huge._

"_Welcome back, B," Ginger says._

………………………………………………………………………………………_._

_Now we see Brigitte in a wheelchair. She is wearing a terrycloth robe and slippers, and she has been cleaned up considerably. Ginger is gently wiping Brigitte around her ears with a washcloth. They are in what appears to be an examination room. Brigitte looks shell shocked and very lost._

"_Ginger…am I dead?" she finally asks._

_Ginger laughs as if Brigitte said the most clever thing in the world.._

"_You have no idea how good a question that actually is, B," Ginger says. "The answer is, both yes and no."_

"_What?" Brigitte says. "I…I don't…"_

"_Doc Murphy and Colonel Rowlands can explain it a lot better than I can," Ginger says. "The quick and dumb version is, your original body died, but it gave birth to this one."_

_Ginger pats Brigitte on the shoulder as she finishes speaking._

"_Is that what happened to you?" Brigitte asks._

"_Yeah, it is," Ginger says. "Do you remember stabbing me to death?"_

"_Do I remember? Are you kidding me?" Brigitte says, showing much more animation. "When I forget everything else, I will still remember __**that**__!"_

_Ginger laughs again, but this time softly and gently._

"_Gotta say, B," Ginger says. "A butcher's knife. __**That**__ was hard core."_

_Ginger tosses the washcloth into a sink. _

"_Next question," Ginger continues. "Do you remember what happened afterwards?"_

"_I woke up in the hospital," Brigitte says._

"_So you don't remember the ninja team in black coming downstairs," Ginger says. "From what Rowlands says, his team arrived almost immediately after my chrysalis stopped breathing. You had passed out. They resuscitated me, or at least my chrysalis, and got me out of there. Gave you a blood test but didn't find any sign of infection. Rowlands figures the monkshood hid it. I assume you injected yourself with some after stabbing me?"_

"_I don't remember," Brigitte says. _

"_Anyway, they sent you to the hospital. The official story was that the Beast of Bailey Downs killed both me and Sam, and that you had killed the beast."_

"_I remember that," Brigitte says. "The press wanted to interview me."_

"_And you ran away before your first interview," Ginger says._

"_I ran away the night after I got home from the hospital," Brigitte says. _

_Ginger's face turns serious._

"_B, I'm really sorry about what happened to Sam."_

"_You weren't yourself, Ginger," Brigitte says. _

"_With Sam, maybe. I don't remember that too well. But I was very much myself with Trina, with Mr. Wayne, and with the janitor," Ginger says. "There's no excuse for the shit I did, to them and to you."_

"_Ginger, you were going through something huge," Brigitte says._

"_And I __**liked**__ it," Ginger replies. "It gave me an excuse to do things, and I took full advantage of it. __**You **__didn't go on a fucking killing spree when you started to change. __**You**__ tried to save a little girl. It wasn't your fault that she was a more deranged killer than I am."_

"_**Am**__?" Brigitte says. _

_Ginger bends down before Brigitte in her wheelchair and gently strokes her cheek. _

"_We'll talk about that later," Ginger says. "Right now, it's time for you to see the white coats They can explain this shit a lot better than I can."_

_Ginger gets up and starts to push Brigitte's wheelchair._

"_I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you again, B," Ginger says. "We're __**back**__. You and me, we're back together."_

* * *

_Ginger pushes Brigitte into a large laboratory. _

"_We're here!" announces Ginger. _

_In response, a short man in a lab coat stands up from behind some computer monitors._

"_That's Doc Murphy," Ginger says to Brigitte. "He's the guy who took you out of your chrysalis."_

"_I remember," Brigitte says._

_After a moment, Brigitte continues._

"_What the fuck is a 'chrysalis'?" she asks. _

"_The Colonel will explain that to you," Doc says to Brigitte. Doc Murphy appears to be in his mid sixties, with disheveled grey hair. It looks like he hasn't shaved in a week, and his face is covered with uneven grey stubble. His glasses sit low on his nose and he is looking over them at Brigitte and Ginger._

_At that moment, another man enters the laboratory from the same door Ginger and Brigitte entered. This man is handsome, with his brown hair cut in a short military style haircut and a very well trimmed pencil mustache. His bearing is as military as his haircut, even though he is also wearing a lab coat. _

"_Hello, Ginger," he says._

"_Hello, Colonel," Ginger says. The tone in Ginger's voice contains such deference that Brigitte turns to look at her sister as if not quite believing what she heard. _

_Colonel Wallace Rowlands drops to a knee in front of Brigitte and takes her hand. _

"_I am __**very**__ honored to meet you, Brigitte," Rowlands says. "You are the only person I've ever heard Ginger speak well of, so you must really be something."_

_Brigitte responds with a strained, extremely uncomfortable look. She is clearly uncomfortable with being complemented by a stranger. _

_Rowlands nods as if he understands, then stands up and starts to walk across the lab, obviously expecting Ginger to follow him with Brigitte's wheelchair. Ginger, Brigitte, and Doc all follow Rowlands through the lab until they reach a giant flat screen monitor the size of a picture window. Rowlands picks up a remote, pushes a button, and a split screen appears, depicting magnified sets of skin cells. _

"_The cells on the left come from Doctor Murphy," Rowlands says. "The cells on the right come from me."_

_He turns towards Brigitte. _

"_Do you notice any differences?"_

_Brigitte looks at the screen, then nods slowly. _

"_The cells on the left have one nucleus each," Brigitte says. "The cells on the right have two nucleuses each. Or is that nuclei?"_

"_Either one is fine, actually," Rowlands says. _

"_Well," says Brigitte. "I wasn't sure. I'm a high school dropout."_

_Rowlands chuckles. _

"_You still did considerably better than your older sister," Rowlands says. "She still calls them 'black blobs'."_

"_Well, Ginger's a high school drop out too," Brigitte says._

"_I am not," Ginger says. "Got my diploma right here."_

"_That's correct," Rowlands says. "I insisted that Ginger finish her education. In fact, she's now taking a couple of college classes, via correspondence under an assumed name of course."_

_Rowlands clears his throat. _

"_Back to the subject at hand," Rowlands says. "You are correct, Brigitte. Each of my skin cells has two nuclei. One nucleus holds my human genome. The other nucleus holds a very different genome, a __**lupine**__ genome. This is true for every cell in my body, and if we were to look at any of your cells, or you sister's, we would see the same thing we see in mine. Cells with two nuclei."_

"_So what causes this?" Brigitte asks. "Some kind of virus?"_

"_At least __**two hundred **__kinds of virus, plus at least eight varieties of bacteria that appear to act primarily as repositories for lupine DNA. The lycanthrope pathogen is in fact an extremely complex __**community**__ of organisms designed to 'hack' into the DNA of their human victim, causing the nucleus to divide without dividing the cell, then reshaping the DNA in the second nucleus from __**Homo sapiens **__to __**Canis lupus**__."_

"_In other words, a wolf," Brigitte says. _

"_Correct," Rowands replies._

"_That…doesn't seem natural," Brigitte says. _

"_It isn't," Doc Murphy says._

"_He's right," Rowlands says. "This is truly an 'irreducibly complex' disease. It was intentionally designed."_

"_So who?" Brigitte says. "The Russians…?"_

"_Not the Russians," Doc says. "This thing is…at least __**centuries**__ ahead of anything we can do. It's extremely advanced."_

"_So who?" Brigitte says again. "__**Aliens**__?"_

"_We don't know," Rowlands replies with a shrug. "What we __**do **__know is that as the lupine genome takes shape in the new nucleus, the lycanthrope pathogen also starts to inhibit the expression of the human genome. The human is slowly reshaped into a wolf creature, first internally, then externally. The full moon appears to act as a visual trigger to start a more rapid transformation into a 'werewolf' beast."_

"_Yeah, I've seen that," Brigitte says. "And I've experienced it."_

"_Me too," Rowlands says. "The werewolf beast is really nothing more than a killing and eating machine designed to move the transformation on to the next step."_

"_The next step?" Brigitte asks._

"_Yes," Rowlands says. "The werewolf beast is really just an incubator, a chrysalis inside which the final transformation from human to wolf occurs. Two to three months after turning into a werewolf, the beast literally consumes itself from within to shape an intelligent, giant wolf. The chrysalis then 'dies', and the fully developed 'super wolf' tears its way out. The human that the creature was is now for all practical purposes dead and gone, replaced by the wolf."_

"_So how come I hatched out human?" Brigitte asks._

"_The lycanthrope pathogen is, in the end, an extremely complex biological machine," Rowlands says. "Much more complex than anything we can come up with. However, sometimes the more complex and advanced the machine, the easier it is to gum up the works. Using aggressive gene therapy, we are able to prevent the inhibition of the human genome and inhibit the expression of the lupine genome, at least in part. Even during the chrysalis stage, we can use heavy gene therapy treatments to reverse the creation of a wolf, and instead create a new human body inside the chrysalis. What we've found when we do this is that the human emerges whole, without any of the defects that he had in his previous life. However, the human also emerges, at least most of the time, with the full complement of memories that she had before transformation."_

_Brigitte is silent for a moment._

"_So you've come up with a cure for lycanthropy," she finally says._

"_Not a cure," says Rowlands. "A __**treatment**__. A very crude treatment in comparison to the sublime machinery that is the lycanthrope pathogen. If the treatments stop, the disease reasserts itself, and the progression from human to werewolf to wolf is reinitiated, and in fact progresses faster than before. Every time treatment is interrupted and reinitiated, it takes longer to reverse the symptoms. In a couple of cases, we were unable to reverse the symptoms at all."_

_Rowlands looks at Brigitte, his gaze intense._

"_But if the treatment __**remains**__ continuous," he says. "Then the subject remains human, but with some of the physical and sensory edges that come from being part wolf."_

_Brigitte is again silent for a moment. Then she nods._

"_I don't pretend to understand half of what you told me," she says. "But I have one more question, and I think I know the answer already."_

_Brigitte looks at Rowlands, her expression very serious._

"_Now that I'm here, I can't ever leave, can I?" _

Ginger is strapped to a bed. Between her teeth is a plastic bit, and she is screaming into it and trying to tear free of the straps. She is in obvious agony. Her hair, wet with sweat, is plastered to her face.

A nurse, an attractive blond woman who appears to be in her early thirties, walks away from Ginger and places a hypodermic in a sharpie container. She looks over to another bed, where Brigitte is strapped down. Brigitte is also in obvious pain, and sweat has also plastered her hair to her head. But there is no bit between her teeth, and even though she is thrashing about slightly, she seems to be very much in control.

"Are you sure there is nothing I can get you?" the nurse asks Brigitte.

Brigitte shakes her head.

The nurse goes to a stool and sits down to watch both sisters and take notes. Our view moves up and we see a small video camera. Then, our view switches and we are in Rowlands' office. Rowlands is sitting at his desk and Doc is standing beside him. Both are watching the screen.

"It's common knowledge that Ginger is the strong one," Doc says. "But when you see them get the treatment, Brigitte always seems to handle it better."

"That's because Ginger's _not _the strong one," Rowlands says. "Except for me, Brigitte's the strongest one here."

Doc looks at Rowlands with obvious disbelief.

"I know," Rowlands says. "You find this hard to believe. Brigitte does seem to be at the bottom of the pack. She's not as physically strong as the others, and she is not nearly as aggressive. But mentally, and in strength of will, she is _clearly_ superior to the others. And eventually, _that_ is what is required to master one's lycanthropy."

Doc turns back to watch the screen, obviously still not convinced.

"I have big plans for Miss Brigitte Fitzgerald," Rowlands says.

They continue to watch Brigitte and Ginger though the monitor, until the intercom on Rowlands' desk buzzes.

"Yes, Mr. Henshaw," Rowlands answers.

"Sir, there's some word on Roskoff."

"Who…? Oh yes, the Russian criminal. I don't really _care _about Roskoff anymore. He was a test for my pack, particularly for the younger Miss Fitzgerald. Nothing more."

"Sir," Henshaw replies. "This word comes from the Director. She's very concerned."

Rowlands' entire attitude shifts. He becomes alert and interested.

"Is she on the line?" Rowlands' asks.

"No sir," Henshaw says. "But she's e-mailed something to you. She says you would know what it means."

Rowlands pushes a key on his computer, then briefly operates the mouse. Our perspective shifts to a view of his computer screen.

"It just looks like a surveillance picture of Roskoff," Doc says.

"Wait…" Rowlands says.

We see a picture of Roskoff taken from a distance. He is behind a window on what looks to be a penthouse apartment. Rowlands outlines Roskoff's picture, and then clicks to get a closeup. We now see a bandage on Roskoff's right hand. Rowlands outlines Roskoff's right hand, and then clicks to get a closeup of it. Sticking out from underneath the bandage are tufts of hair.

"Son of a bitch," Doc whispers. "He's been infected."

"Yes," Rowlands says. "Well now. This changes everything, doesn't it?"

_**Flashback 3**_

_Ginger and Brigitte are walking around a large indoor track. Brigitte's head now has a covering of very short black hair, and Ginger's hair has grown long enough to frame her face. _

"'_Outings'?" Brigitte says, making quotation marks with her hands. "What the fuck are 'outings'?" _

_Ginger shrugs._

"_Once in a while the pack goes out and we do a job," Ginger says._

"_A 'job'?" Brigitte asks. "What kind of 'job' would Rowlands send a bunch of werewolves out for? You guys go out and kill somebody?"_

_Ginger shrugs again._

"_Jesus Christ, that's __**it**__ isn't it?" Brigitte says. "We're the newest weapons for the Department of fucking Defense, aren't we? That's __**fucked**__, Ginger!"_

_Ginger turns suddenly and grabs Brigitte's arm hard._

"_Ow!" Brigitte yells._

"_It may be fucked, B, but that's____the way things are here," Ginger whispers harshly. "You do what they say and you continue to get the treatment. You don't do what they say and you __**don't**__ get the treatment, and they __**kill**__ you before they let the wolf have you."_

"_But Ginger," Brigitte says. "Don't you see we're being used?"_

"_Sure," Ginger says. "But being __**used**__ means being __**useful**__. And being __**useful**__ is the only thing that keeps__** anyone**__ alive. We're __**alive**__ and we're __**together**__, and that's all that counts, B. That's __**all**__ that counts!"_

_Brigitte shakes her head._

"_So much for 'Out by sixteen or dead in this scene', huh?" Brigitte says._

"_We __**did**__ get out by sixteen, didn't we?" Ginger says. "So we told the truth. Besides, as far as Bailey Downs and the rest of the outside world are concerned, we __**are **__dead."_

"_**I'm**__ dead?" Brigitte says. _

"_Yeah," Ginger says. "Just the final victim of a teenaged psycho."_

"_That sucks," Brigitte says. "Fucking Ghost."_

"_**Somebody**__ probably is by now," Ginger says dryly. _

Brigitte is lying awake in her bed. We hear sounds; human voices, the rustling of other people in their sleep, the sound of furnaces going off and on, the dripping of a faucet, and the buzz of florescent lights in hallways. This, of course, is how Brigitte hears the world with her amplified lupine senses. Brigitte closes her eyes in concentration, and most of the sounds fade away until we only hear the distant but clear rhythmic creaking of two people having sex.

"Fucking ow!" we hear Ginger's faint voice exclaim.

"That's what you get for waiting too long to start your next treatment," James replies, his voice also faint and distant but clear.

There is some more rhythmic creaking before we hear Ginger's voice again.

"It does pull a few muscles," she says. It sounds like she is speaking between her teeth.

The creaking becomes louder and more intense. Then we hear James make the universal wordless exclamation announcing that he is finished. Then there is silence except for some faint heavy breathing.

"Jesus Christ," Brigitte whispers to herself. "He could at least have the decency to _try_ to hold out a little bit."

We then hear Ginger's voice, still distant but a little louder.

"Mind your own business, B!" Ginger says.

Brigitte closes her eyes.

"Shit," she says.

"You really should consider letting me kill her," James says. "It'll be kinder than what Rowlands will do to her for screwing up again."

"Fuck you, Munroe," Ginger replies.

"You just did," James says. "You need to come up with something new to say to me."

"How about, you touch my sister again, I'll kill you?" Ginger says.

"That's better," James says. "Demented and delusional, but better."

We hear the sound of someone getting out of the bed, and then of someone getting dressed.

"Going so soon?" James asks.

"Fu-," Ginger starts to say. "Go to hell, Munroe."

"There you go," James says. "Variety is the spice of life."

There is the sound of a slamming door, and then approaching footsteps. Then, the door to Brigitte's room is opened, and light floods in. Brigitte squeezes her eyes shut and turns her head. Our view pans out to see that the room is like a college dorm room, with a bed on each end. Brigitte's in the left bed.

"I told you to watch your mouth, B," Ginger says. "You're not the only one here with really good hearing."

"How can you…?" Brigitte says. "You_ hate_ him."

"The _human_ in me hates him," Ginger says. "The _wolf_ in me finds him really, really hot."

Ginger takes off her shoes and sits on the right bed, facing Brigitte.

"Besides which," Ginger says. "If I didn't screw him, he'd have killed you long ago."

"Danielle tells me that you were screwing him before I came," Brigitte says.

"Well, yeah," Ginger says. "Alphas screw alphas, and Danielle never could deal with me kicking her butt down the totem pole."

At that moment, there is an annoying buzzing sound, and then we hear Rowlands' voice over an intercom.

"Emergency pack meeting in the conference room," Rowlands says. His voice sounds very serious.

"If alphas screw alphas," Brigitte says. "Why aren't you screwing _him?"_

Ginger shrugs.

"I've tried," she says. "He seems to have somebody else in mind."

"_**Now**_,__people!" Rowlands' voice says.

Ginger looks at Brigitte. Her expression is tense.

"He doesn't sound happy, B," Ginger says.

"Shit," Brigitte says, quietly.

* * *

The pack, Ginger, Brigitte, Danielle, Claude, James, and Colonel Wallace Rowlands, are all sitting around a large round conference table. Rowlands is on one side, the other members of the pack are all on the other. Rowlands' gaze rests on Brigitte, and it is a harsh gaze. Ginger looks very worried, her gaze alternating between Brigitte and Rowlands.

"So, Brigitte," Rowlands says in a tight, controlled voice. "Is there something you want to tell the rest of us about the mission last night?"

Brigitte slumps in her chair, but doesn't turn away from Rowlands gaze.

"I screwed up," she says with a shrug. "Again. I let Roskoff get away."

"And that's all?" Rowlands says, his voice containing a dangerous edge.

Brigitte looks startled, and Ginger now looks even more worried than she did before.

"Well, yeah," Brigitte says. "I mean, there are some details about what happened, but that's the gist of it."

Rowlands moves away from the table and pulls down a small movie screen.

"Claude," Rowlands says. "Go turn down the lights a little."

Claude complies, and the room darkens, although we can still see everyone clearly.

Rowlands picks up a remote off of the table, and clicks it. The close up picture of Roskoff's hand appears on the screen.

"Recognize this anyone?" Rowlands asks.

James shrugs with exaggerated indifference.

"It's a hand," he says. "Bandaged."

"Wait," Ginger says. "There's hair growing underneath the bandage. Whoever that is…just got…infected."

Ginger looks at Brigitte, her expression becoming horrified.

"_**B**_?" she says.

Rowlands pushes on the remote, and the picture moves back to reveal the hand's owner.

"Jesus Christ!" James shouts. "Ginger, your idiot sister _bit _Roskoff!"

"No!!!" says Brigitte loudly. "I swear I didn't bite him. I _didn't. _I _**wouldn't**_!!!"

Brigitte turns to look at Ginger, who is looking back at her as if seeing her in a new way, and not liking what she sees.

"I _**swear**_,__Ginger!"

"Then can you please tell us just what the hell _did_ happen?" Rowlands says, his voice trembling with controlled fury.

Brigitte closes her eyes.

_Roskoff literally squeals in terror, and hits Brigitte hard in the mouth with his right fist._

"Oh shit," Brigitte says. "Oh…oh shit."

"B?" Ginger says.

Brigitte opens her eyes and looks at Rowlands.

"He…he hit me," Brigitte says. "In the mouth. I thought he knocked a tooth loose."

"Which tooth?" Rowlands asks quietly.

"This one," Brigitte points to her upper left canine tooth, which now looks quite human.

"You were in the early stages of transformation," Rowlands says. "That tooth would have been projecting. Do you think he cut his hand on it?"

"He…he could have," Brigitte says.

Rowlands sits down at the conference table and clasps his hands on the table and looks at Brigitte. His gaze is not friendly.

"Mr. Roskoff has already been well known for his sexual sadism," Rowlands says. "He made his fortune trafficking in sexual slavery and when he samples his own product, he tends to damage it.

"This man is now a werewolf. You all know that an increased and more violent sexual appetite is an early symptom of lycanthropy infection. In a man like Roskoff, such an increase in appetite is likely to lead to _unthinkable _consequences. This must be dealt with. Now."

Rowlands looks at Brigitte.

"You created this mess," Rowlands says coldly. "You can clean up this mess. Alone. You are to find Mr. Roskoff, kill him, and dispose of him in such a way that he can not pass on the infection you gave him. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Brigitte says, not flinching from Rowlands' gaze. "Yes, I understand."

"Colonel Rowlands, sir," Ginger says, standing up, her voice on the edge of panic. "With all due respect, this is crazy. B isn't trained for a solo mission. Roskoff is a major figure in the Russian mob. He's insanely rich, and after last night he'll be more paranoid than ever. He'll have an army guarding him. She won't stand a chance by herself.

"Let me go with her. _**Please**_!"

"No," Rowlands says. "You have protected your little sister long enough. Far too long in fact. You've sheltered her from the consequences of her mistakes."

"Damn straight," James says.

"Shut the fuck up, Munroe!" Ginger says without turning around. "Colonel, please. The consequence is that you're sending her out to die. And if she dies out there, all alone, _she _might spread her infection. _**Please **_let me go out with her. I'll make sure she does the job on Roskoff herself, but someone has to run interference for her, and if she does fail, you'd probably send me next anyway."

Rowlands brings his hands to his chin, appearing to think about what Ginger said. Then he nods.

"Very well," Rowlands says. "But you both go out unarmed."

"_**Unarmed**_?" Ginger says, as if she can't believe what she just heard.

"Yes," Rowlands says. "Either Brigitte goes out by herself, fully armed, or you go with her, and you are both unarmed."

Ginger closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"Shit," she says quietly.

Then she looks up at Rowlands.

"You've got a deal," she says.

"Very well," Rowlands says. "You leave at 0700. Both of you."

"Ginger…" Brigitte starts to say.

"It's decided, B," Ginger says.

"And you're fucking crazy, Ginger," says James. "Covering for your idiot sister isn't going to save her, it will just get you killed too."

"Fuck you, Munroe," Ginger says.

* * *

The scene is now somewhere in downtown Toronto. The black van pulls up, and this time both Fitzgerald sisters are pushed out onto the sidewalk. The sisters are dressed identically, wearing blue jeans, white Nikes, and grey sweatshirts.

As the van pulls away, Ginger says, "Well, here we are."

**End Act 1**


	3. Act 2

**Act 2**

From a distance, as if we are riding a helicopter, we see a tall apartment building. We approach the building, and then start to circle over it. The building has a recessed penthouse.

The scene shifts to the large and opulent living room inside the penthouse. Seated in a chair next to a closed door, reading _Entertainment Weekly_,is the Indian from the Black Inferno Club. Except for his shirt, which is now black, red, and yellow checked, his outfit looks the same. From behind the closed door, we hear Roskoff's voice. It is raised and angry, and he appears to be speaking in Russian. Suddenly, there is a crashing noise, as if something breakable was thrown against the door. The door opens, and Long Sideburns comes out of the room. His face is bright red, and his expression is a mixture of anger, fear, and humiliation. Long Sideburns stops and looks at the Indian, who doesn't look up from the magazine, then turns and walks away.

"**Hunter!**" Roskoff yells.

The Hunter stands up and carefully lays his open magazine on the floor. He goes through the door and enters an office almost as large as the living room. The office has a large window that looks out over downtown Toronto. Roskoff is looking out the window, absently itching his bandaged right hand.

"Incompetents, Hunter," Roskoff says. "I am surrounded by incompetents."

The Hunter doesn't say anything. He simply stands quietly and waits.

"I have put a contract on those people," Roskoff says, turning and looking at the Hunter.

The Hunter now reacts with a look of surprise and even indignation.

"Peter," he says. "_I_ have been doing your killing now for three years. A _contract_? Why haven't you talked to me about this?"

"Because I need you here, my friend," Roskoff says. "I need your protection right _here_. Those girls came far too close. In fact, they were not girls at all. The dark haired one, she had pointed ears and pointed teeth. She was a devil, perhaps even a vampire."

"She was a werewolf, Peter," the Hunter says.

"A _werewolf_?" Roskoff says, his eyes going very wide. "You _know_ this?"

"I've run into one or two before," the Hunter says with a shrug.

"Someone sent _werewolves_ to kill me?" Roskoff says.

"I don't know," the Hunter replies. "Maybe. It might explain why the girls were such amateurs."

"I'm not so sure the red head was such an amateur," Roskoff says. "But the dark haired one, I agree that she was an amateur. But she's the one who would have gotten me if it hadn't been for Angel…_she_ did a better job at spotting danger than the people I _pay _to protect me."

"So you put a contract on them," the Hunter says.

"An _open_ contract," Roskoff says.

"An _open_ contract?" the Hunter exclaims. "Every _fool_ with a gun will be chasing after every dark and red headed girl in the Toronto area, particularly those with Goth fetishes! Peter, this is very dangerous."

Roskoff's face darkens with anger.

"Hunter, you forget your place," Roskoff says. "I have always treated you honorably, but I have not gotten where I am by being the kind of bastard that puts up with people trying to kill him. Not only will I have satisfaction from my would-be killers, I will demonstrate to the world how swiftly I deal with those who would kill me."

The Hunter's face is now very serious, and there is a dangerous edge to his voice that Roskoff does not seem to hear. Or, he doesn't think that it pertains to him.

"How much is the contract?" he asks.

"30,000 dollars for the dark haired girl, 20,000 dollars for the red head, and 10,000 each for the other three," Roskoff says.

"Do you even _know_ who these people _are_?" the Hunter asks.

"No," Roskoff says. "But I have the surveillance photos."

"But they're _werewolves_," the Hunter says.

"Yes," Roskoff says. "I heard you the first time."

"Lycanthropy is a _fatal_ disease, Peter," the Hunter says. "They're going to _die_ soon anyway. You're wasting your money."

Roskoff's expression instantaneously changes from one of rage to terror. He turns to hide this expression change from the Hunter. As he turns, he fails to notice the Hunter's slight smile.

"Fatal?" Roskoff asks, now trying to sound casual.

"Yes, fatal," the Hunter replies with a shrug. "They become hairier, then their bodies change shape, and then they die. Based on your description of the dark haired one, and my encounter with the red head, they are both in the later stages. My guess is that someone has convinced them that he has a cure. Desperate werewolves can be effective in the right situation. But so far as I know, there _is_ no such thing as a cure."

"You're right," Roskoff says. "I've been hasty. I'd like you to find these two young women and _force_ them to tell you who hired them, and what he promised them. _Then _kill them."

Roskoff looks at his bandaged hand, and the hair that now is growing around the bandage as well as under it.

"I want to find out just _who_ is pulling the strings here," Roskoff says. "I'm afraid I've made your job difficult, because the open contract has already gone out."

The Hunter closes his eyes and nods slightly.

"Then I better get moving," he says.

He turns and walks out.

* * *

Brigitte and Ginger are sitting in a booth in a diner. Through the window next to their booth, we see various pedestrians walking back and forth.

"What are we _doing_ here, Ginger?" Brigitte asks.

"Eating breakfast, B," Ginger says. "What does it look like?"

"But we're…we're supposed to be doing…what we're supposed to be doing," Brigitte says.

"No rule that says we can't eat breakfast first," Ginger says. "Rowlands gave us each twenty bucks, and I _always_ prefer to kill a guy on a full stomach."

"_Jesus Christ, _Ginger!" whispers Brigitte, her eyes darting back and forth.

"Relax, B," Ginger says. "_Nobody's_ listening to us."

"How the fuck do you know?" Brigitte asks.

"Because I'm listening to them not listening to us," Ginger says. Then she raises her head and looks back over her shoulder. "Hold on a sec."

The waitress comes over.

"Scrambled eggs and toast," she says as she puts a plate in front of Brigitte.

"The Hungry Man's Breakfast Feast," she says as she puts a heaping plate in front of Ginger. The plate contains, among other things, pancakes, an omelet, bacon, toast, and hash browns. "Gotta say, hon. Wish I had your metabolism."

After the waitress leaves with a promise to refill their orange juices, Ginger says:

"Hey B, pass me some bug puke, willya?"

Brigitte passes Ginger the honey bottle.

"So what's your plan, B?" Ginger asks as she squeezes honey on her pancakes. "It's OK. Nobody's listening again."

"I don't know," Brigitte says as she spreads butter on her toast. "It's been a long time since I've killed anyone."

Ginger laughs.

"B," she says. "I've been with you on every errand Rowlands has sent us on. You haven't killed _anyone_ yet."

"Yeah, I have," Brigitte says, her face grim. "I killed _before_ I joined the pack."

"Jason doesn't count," Ginger says.

"Pardon?" Brigitte asks.

"_Jason_," Ginger says. "You know. The guy we went to school with. The guy I fucked and infected with lycanthropy. The guy who followed you until you beat him near to death and shoved him onto various sharp implements in Ghost's basement. He was in late stage catalyst. He was going to hatch a wolf in a day or two, way too late to reverse. He wasn't _human_ anymore, B."

"Oh yeah, him," Brigitte says. "Actually, I was thinking of _Tyler_."

"_Tyler_?" Ginger says. "The guy who was killed outside Ghost's house by Jason?"

"I _locked_ him outside, Ginger," Brigitte says. "On purpose. So that the werewolf would get him."

"No _shit_??" Ginger exclaims quietly. "Wait. Hold on a sec."

The waitress returns with the orange juices. She asks the sisters if everything is OK, then leaves the bill.

"So why the fuck did you lock him outside, B?" Ginger asks. "What'd he do?"

"Ghost convinced me that he raped her," Brigitte says, closing her eyes. She pushes her plate away. "I've lost my appetite."

Ginger starts to scoop off food from Brigitte's plate onto her own.

"But he didn't," Brigitte continues. "It was just another game that little psycho was playing."

"_Something_ must have convinced you that it was true," Ginger says.

"Tyler _was_ slimy," Brigitte says. "He would give the girls access to a hit of their particular poison for sex or…other things."

"_Shit_," Ginger says. Her voice becomes quieter, reflecting a quiet but very deep fury. "So did he _do_ something to you? Force you to do something so that you could get your shot of monkshood?"

"Ginger," Brigitte says. "It doesn't matter anymore. He's _dead_."

"Did he force you to give up your cherry for a hit, B?" Ginger asks, her quiet fury building. "'cause if he did, I'd like to high five you for feeding his ass to Jason."

"He _didn't_ deserve what I did to him, Ginger," Brigitte says. "He was actually trying to help us in the end, whatever else he'd done. And no, he didn't rape me or have sex with me."

"So what _did_ he do to you, B?" Ginger asks. She stares hard at Brigitte, until Brigitte looks away.

"He gave me an injection, Ginger," Brigitte says. "That's all."

"Yeah?" Ginger says. "I'm bettin' it wasn't in the arm, was it?"

"No," Brigitte says. "It wasn't. Thanks, Ginger. I feel _**so**_ much fucking better for having relived this."

The two Fitzgerald sisters sit in uncomfortable silence.

Finally Ginger speaks, quietly and gently.

"Sorry," she says.

"No, don't…" Brigitte says, shaking her head. "Really, _don't_. I'm glad, really, _really_ glad, you came with me, Ginger."

Ginger nods. Then she looks at Brigitte, her face very serious.

"B, I know you don't want to, but you _do_ know you _**have**_ to kill this time out, don't you?" Ginger says.

Brigitte looks up suddenly, and everything about her changes. Her expression is so determined and her attitude is so intense that Ginger jumps slightly in her booth and drops her fork on her plate.

"jesus christ!" Ginger whispers very quietly, probably without even being aware she whispered anything at all.

"I have _every_ intention of taking out Roskoff," Brigitte says. "I _**will not**_ stand by and let a shit like him spread the lycanthropy that_** I**_ gave him. That guy was a monster _before_ he became a werewolf. Rowlands and I _agree_ about _this one thing_: When he became a werewolf because of me, he became _my_ responsibility, and I'm cleaning it up. And I _know_ what that will require of me."

So intense is the connection between the sisters at that moment that neither notices that the waitress has returned to their table. The waitress's eyes are wide. Ginger looks up.

"_**What**_?" Ginger says suddenly.

The waitress jumps slightly.

Brigitte looks up at the waitress. Some but not all of her former intensity is gone.

"Sorry," Brigitte says. "My friend gets pretty intense when we are plotting."

"Plotting?" the waitress asks.

"Yeah," Brigitte says. "We're a team. My friend and I write and draw horror comics. We're still trying to get published."

"Oh, I see," the waitress says, allowing herself to be relieved. "Anything else I can get you?"

"No thanks," Ginger says. "Sorry to be so rude."

After the waitress leaves, Ginger says, "That was quick thinking. Still, we probably ought to get out of here."

Brigitte nods.

The scene shifts to the sisters walking outside in downtown Toronto.

"The penthouse is four blocks over that way," Brigitte says, jerking her head to her right.

"So, you have any ideas?" Ginger asks, apparently completely recovered from Brigitte's unexpected show of intensity.

"I figured we'd go over there, then you would somehow distract as many of the guards as you can while I go in and kill him," Brigitte says.

"Bad plan," Ginger says. "It blows completely."

"Yeah, but in case you forgot, I haven't been paying attention in killer class," Brigitte asks. "I assume you have a better idea?"

"Well, yeah," Ginger says. "I do. I figure we get a high powered rifle and shoot him in the head from a distance."

"Are you _mental_, Ginger?" Brigitte asks. "Rowlands sent us out unarmed."

"Doesn't mean we have to _stay_ that way, B," Ginger says with a shrug and a smile.

"Yeah," Brigitte replies. "I assume you know where we're going to find a fucking _high powered rifle just laying around? _Hey, wait! There was a 'Help Wanted' sign up at the diner. Maybe we can earn enough money to pay for a rifle _before_ we turn into fucking _300 pound monsters_."

"Oh ye of little faith, B," Ginger says. "I already know where we can _steal_ some fast cash!"

"What?" Brigitte says. "Steal? What are we going to do _then_? Get arrested and wait for Roskoff to come and visit us in jail? Are you _completely_ out of fucking touch?"

"B," Ginger says, putting her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Unlike you, I _have _been paying attention in killer class. I can get us the money, and once we have the money, I know a guy who can get us the gun. I've dealt with him before during some solo and partner jobs."

"OK, fine" Brigitte says. "But that still leaves one problem."

"What's that?" Ginger says.

"We're also supposed to dispose of his fucking corpse before it can expose someone to the pathogen," Brigitte says.

Ginger shrugs.

"_That's_ not a problem," Ginger says.

"Why's that?" Brigitte asks.

"Because most bodyguards lose interest in the body they are guarding when the body turns up dead," Ginger says. "Body dead, job over, guards go home."

Brigitte shrugs.

"OK, that makes sense," she says. "Lead on, Ginger."

Unnoticed by the two sisters, well behind them and upwind, the Hunter follows them quietly, weaving between the pedestrians without being noticed.

* * *

It is a bright, early fall day, and we see the black van pull into the gate, and once again we see the sign for _The Canadian Center for Exotic Disease Control_.

In the waiting room, before the doors open we hear James' voice ranting loudly. When the glass doors open, we hear what he is saying.

"…sentimental bitch is going to get herself killed over her _fucktard_ sister," James says. "_**Fuck!!!**_"

Danielle follows him in, her long dark hair blowing in the breeze created by the pressure difference between the inside and the outside of the building. Her expression is a mixture of anger and fear.

"_Why are you so damned upset about __**Ginger Fitzgerald**_?" she shouts angrily. "It's not like she showed you any respect when she was here. I hope she _does _get her ass _killed_, she and her stupid sister."

James turns rapidly, an inhuman wolf like growl coming from his throat. He immediately grabs Danielle by the shoulders, and she immediately turns her head, exposing her throat with a whimper.

"Do you know what another word for _sentimental_ is?" James asks Danielle, his voice now quiet and icy. "_Selfish_! Ginger Fitzgerald belongs to _me_, she shouldn't be wasting her time on her worthless, waste of space sister. We're _predators_, she should let natural selection take its natural fucking course."

James then pushes Danielle back. Danielle would fall if she wasn't caught by Claude, who has entered the building quietly behind them. Danielle and Claude share a look. Claude shakes his head slightly.

"_God __**damn **__it_!" James says again, his voice getting louder.

The two security guards at the desk look at one another. One of them nods and the other pushes a button on the phone line.

"Yeah," the security guard says. "Yeah, the usual."

James spins and looks at the security guard, another growl coming from his throat. His canines are now longer.

"What the fuck…?" James says. "You boys now telling on me?"

"_Mr. Munroe_, that's quite enough!"

Rowlands enters into the reception room, followed at a respectable distance by "Doc" Murphy. Both are in their white laboratory coats.

James turns to look at Rowlands, but he doesn't look cowed at all.

"You were the one who let her go in the first place," James says. "But that's always the case isn't it? Can't tell little Ginger 'no'."

"James," says Rowlands. "You are overwrought, and you are in need of another treatment. Besides, you need to have a little more faith in your packmates."

"Brigitte is no _packmate_, and if Ginger was going after Roskoff _alone_, I wouldn't be worried," James says, still angry and still meeting Rowland's gaze. "But we both know that '_B_' doesn't have what it takes, and it's going to cost us our alpha female when Ginger tries to protect her."

James smiles insolently.

"But then maybe that's it, isn't it?" James says. "Ginger fucks _me_, not _you_. Maybe that bothers you, maybe you're _ready_ for Ginger to die."

Claude covers his face with his hand and snorts. James turns angrily to look at him, and at that moment a white blur slams into him. Rowlands has picked up James and pinned him into a wall. His forearm is across James' throat. The growl that comes from Rowlands is much deeper and full throated than the growls that came from James.

"You forget yourself, James," Rowlands says. "When you lose control of your emotions, you lose control of your body, and your mind, and your ability to think.

"I could have had and can have Ginger Fitzgerald any time I please. The reason why I have not coupled with Ginger is because she is _**not**_ an alpha, and I will not couple with anyone _**but**_ an alpha female."

James tries to struggle against Rowlands' grip, and fails. His face starts to turn red, then purple. Then Rowlands releases James and swiftly backs out of his immediate reach. James lands on the floor and tries to keep his feet, fails, and falls to his knees. He struggles to his feet, and when he does, he stands up straight and meets Rowlands' gaze directly.

"_Ginger's _not an alpha?" James asks disbelievingly. "She's strong and she has completed more missions than anyone here but me, including solo missions. She doesn't take crap from anyone, including me, and she'll even stand up to _you_."

James' insolent expression returns.

"So what are you doing to find this _real _alpha female, Wallace?" James asks. "Are you looking for just the _right_ girl to bite?"

Rowlands straightens the sleeve of his lab jacket.

"I've already _identified_ our alpha female," Rowlands says. "She will be arriving soon, perhaps as soon as a day or two."

Rowlands raises his gaze from his coat sleeve and back to James.

"And when she does, James," Rowlands says. "I don't suggest you challenge me for her."

James looks startled. Claude and Danielle are also silent, exchanging nervous looks.

"Go to your quarters," Rowlands says. "All of you. You are not to come out until 0800 tomorrow. At that time, James, you will report to the lab for your treatment."

The other three werewolves stand quietly.

"That is _all_, people," Rowlands says.

The other three werewolves turn and walk out without a word.

* * *

The door to Rowlands' office opens and he walks in, followed by Murphy.

"Refreshment?" Rowlands asks Murphy.

"Sure," Murphy says, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Rowlands' desk. Rowlands kneels before a liquor cabinet, and opens the doors underneath to reveal a small refrigerator. He pulls out two Molson Ales and tosses one to Murphy. Murphy catches the bottle easily, opening it carefully to let the excess carbon dioxide out before taking a long pull.

"So who's this alpha female you're talking about?" Murphy asks. "Someone you're hoping will mentor Brigitte Fitz…"

Murphy's voice trails off at the look Rowlands gives him, a look that is serious and amused at the same time.

"You're _referring_ to Brigitte Fitzgerald, aren't you?" Dr. Murphy asks, obviously stunned at the conclusion. "_She's_ the alpha whose arrival you are anticipating."

Rowlands smiles, takes a long pull from his own Molson, then puts it down on top of the cabinet.

"Yes, John," Rowlands says. "I am referring to the 'waste of space', the 'idiot', or my personal favorite, the 'fucktard'."

At the use of each term, Rowlands makes quote marks in the air.

"Do you know how many people Brigitte Fitzgerald has killed in the black ops missions we've sent her on?" Rowlands asks.

"One or two at the most," Murphy says.

"None, John," Rowlands says, his voice filled with pride. "_**None.**_"

"Doesn't that support James' argument regarding Brigitte's incompetence?" Murphy asks.

"Quite the opposite," Rowlands says. "It's _easy_ to kill when you are a werewolf, even if you are an incompetent werewolf. For a werewolf _not _killing, indeed deliberately _avoiding_ killing, is extremely difficult. Ginger and I, in addition to Brigitte, are the only ones who know her secret, and neither of them know that _I_ know. Even _James_ assumes she's killed _somebody_."

Rowlands approaches Murphy and sits on his desk. He leans forward to look directly at Murphy.

"As paradoxical as it sounds, Brigitte's refusal to kill on missions is a show of unprecedented strength," Rowlands says. "None of the others are capable of it. I'm not even sure that _I_ am capable of it."

Rowlands takes another pull on his Molson. So does Murphy.

"But I remind you," Rowlands says after he swallows. "I remind you that Brigitte Fitzgerald _has_ killed. She killed one werewolf in chrysalis, and she nearly killed her own sister when she achieved chrysalis, and she did so only with weapons in hand. No guns."

Murphy nods.

"I remember," he says. "If we hadn't gotten there in time, Ginger's chrysalis would have been beyond recovery. As it was, we were lucky to resuscitate it to a comatose state and tube feed it until we were able to pull Ginger out."

"So you see, Murphy, Roskoff is _doomed_," Rowlands says. "He is doomed because Brigitte Fitzgerald will not abide the thought of a man like him spreading the infection _she_ gave him. _He_ she will _choose_ to kill. His accidental infection has afforded me the opportunity to move up the timetable for Brigitte's self discovery. When Roskoff is dead, Brigitte will come back a very different person, and a very different werewolf."

* * *

It is now night, and we are looking at a neighborhood with tract housing, mostly small single story ranch style homes. Then the scene shifts to the bottom of a tree along the street. As we start to pan up the tree, we hear Ginger say:

"Cut it out, B! You're shaking the tree."

"I can't help it, Ginger, I'm cold."

"You're a werewolf, B. You're impervious to cold."

"Bullshit, because _I'm cold_!"

"That's just because you can see your own breath. It's psychological."

Our view has now arrived to the body of the tree, and perched uncomfortably on the branches are both Ginger and Brigitte Fitzgerald. Their breaths are both misting in the night, and their eyes reflect light in a very wolf like way. Brigitte is shivering.

"Or maybe," Ginger says, watching Brigitte shiver. "Maybe you should have eaten more of your breakfast this morning."

"I…didn't think…we…would be…walking…across the…fucking…city, Ginger," Brigitte says. "Now _why_ are we here again?"

"Because _here_ is where the _money_ is, B," Ginger says.

Brigitte looks at her sister as if she has lost her mind.

"_Mansions_ are where the money is," Brigitte says. "_Penthouses _are where the money is. _This_ is like returning to fucking Bailey Downs."

"Take a look at _this_ house," Ginger says, pointing to a house that is facing them from the next street down. "Look _**closely**_."

We are now looking at the house as well. Then we are looking at Brigitte's face as her eyes shift back and forth. She is no longer shivering. Then Brigitte stops and says:

"Wait a minute," Brigitte says. "Cameras."

"Yep," Ginger says. "They aren't easy to see, but those are high tech, expensive security cameras. Not typical for the neighborhood."

We now see a portion of the house, and underneath the roof and just out from the wall, two video cameras are sweeping back and forth.

"They're there for one reason," Ginger says. "To help the people _inside_ see what is going on _outside_, and _that's_ because they either have a lot of money, or something very valuable inside."

"So we're just going to rob these people?" Brigitte asks.

"It's not like there's a family of four in there, B," Ginger replies.

"Who then?" Brigitte asks.

"Well, B," Ginger says. "Last night while you were researching Roskoff's personal and traveling habits, and his personal security arrangements, _**I**_was researching his business."

"And he comes _here_?" Brigitte asks disbelievingly.

"No, B," Ginger replies. "This place is strictly middle management. This is like a product warehouse. The initial contact between a buyer and Roskoff's organization is made on disguised, moving sites on the internet. But the actual purchases are made face to face, in places just like this one."

"With cash," Brigitte says. "Because it's still the hardest thing to trace."

"Yeah, with cash," Ginger confirms. "The buyers come here, make their final selection, and they are the proud owner of an underage girl sex slave who will do things not even legal in Toronto."

"That's fucking sick," Brigitte says. "But that just makes me like your idea more, using Roskoff's money to buy the gun that will kill him."

Ginger nods.

"Problem is," Ginger says. "They don't necessarily make a sale every night and…well, well, well, look what we have here."

A red Pontiac Firebird pulls into the driveway, and a short, dark haired man gets out. Another, taller man gets out from the passenger side and follows the first.

"Looks like we're in luck," Ginger says.

"So what's the plan?" Brigitte asks.

"Well, first," Ginger says. "I need you to hit me."

With that, Ginger tears the right sleeve of her sweatshirt so that it comes partially loose from her shoulder, revealing a thin black bra strap.

Our view shifts back to the bottom of the tree, and we hear a very light slap.

"No, B," Ginger says. "Harder."

We hear another very light slap, barely louder than the first.

"Boy," says Ginger. "_Sam sure did taste good going down_."

WHACK!!!!!

Ginger comes tumbling out of the tree. Her left eye is now puffy.

"That's better," Ginger says, half groggily. "Much better. _**Too**_ much better."

"Well you deserved…oh crap."

Brigitte falls out of the tree and lands face down next to Ginger.

"So what's the plan now, big sister?" Brigitte says, her voice muffled by lawn.

"Well, first," Ginger says as she starts to _gingerly_ sit up. "First we get back in the tree."

"Shit," Brigitte says as she slowly pushes herself up. "I was just enjoying being _out_ of the damn tree."

* * *

Ginger and Brigitte are back in the tree. Brigitte looks more miserable than ever, and is shivering again. Ginger also looks more uncomfortable. Her left eye is red, and she carefully (because she is perched in a tree) rubs her arm and shoulder where the sleeve has been torn.

Suddenly, we hear the sound of an opening door and both Brigitte and Ginger look up.

We now see the front of the house, and the shorter man is going back to the driver's side of the car. The taller man is walking a small, dark haired girl with a long, black trench coat of the sort commonly seen in The Black Inferno. Her legs are bare and she walks awkwardly in high heels.

The taller man half helps and half shoves the girl into the back seat of the Firebird, then gets in himself. The car starts and begins to back out of the driveway.

Our viewpoint shifts back to the tree.

"You're on, B." Ginger says. "Now comes the time for little discussion and much kicking of ass."

Brigitte drops out of the tree. A second later, so does Ginger.

* * *

We are now in the kitchen in the house. A medium sized but muscular man in a white tee shirt is watching a monitor that shows a six picture split screen. He is smoking a cigarette. Over his tee shirt he has a shoulder rig and a handgun. On the screen, we suddenly see the girl in the trench coat run up the driveway, barefoot.

"What the fuck?" the man says in a Russian accent.

Then we see Ginger, head down, chasing the girl.

"Crow!" the man yells. "Front door! Now!"

One of the back bedroom doors opens and a tall and thin man with a scar down the left side of his face strides out.

"What?" he says with no hint of a Russian accent at all.

"The girl we just sold," The Russian man says. "Gigi. She's come back, and some other girl is chasing her."

"_Other_ girl?" Crow asks.

"Yeah," the Russian says. "I think our customers might have gotten greedy with some girl on the street, and bitten off more than they could chew."

"Jesus Christ!" Crow says.

There is pounding on the front door.

"That's Gigi," the Russian says.

"Fine, Yuri," Crow says. "I'll go check."

Crow holds his gun next to his leg as he walks to the door and opens it with his left hand. The door opens, and the girl in the trench coat looks up to reveal the face of Brigitte Fitzgerald.

Crow starts to bring the gun up.

"It's _her_!" he yells. "The girl from the contract!"

Brigitte grabs Crow's wrist and snaps it. Crow yells as he drops the gun. Before it hits the floor, Ginger, coming up behind Brigitte, reaches down and catches it, then raises it back up and shoots Crow in the chest. Then she steps past Brigitte over the threshold and shoots Yuri in the chest as well as he starts to bring his gun up.

"Jesus, Ginger!" Brigitte begins. "Why…?"

But Ginger isn't listening. She walks swiftly into the living room, her face grim. Then she looks up and starts to shoot at the ceiling, obviously searching for something. Then she stops, looking satisfied. Covering her head and face, Ginger leaps up, hard, shattering the ceiling, then grabbing wooden beams on each side to finish the climb through. There is a shouted commotion from one of the bedrooms in the back of the house, down the hallway, and from above the sound of Ginger swiftly clambering her way through the attic. Then, the door opens and another man armed with a gun comes out. It's one of the trench coated men from the club. He raises his gun towards Brigitte, who is standing in seeming shock over what is happening. But then, there is a large crash in the room behind him and the late Crow's gun barks again, three times. The last time, the chest of the trench coated man lets loose a small fountain of blood as the bullet travels through him, striking the wall just five feet or so to the right of where Brigitte is standing.

It takes a full five seconds for Brigitte to recover her voice.

"What the _**fuck**_**, **Ginger?" Brigitte says. "Have you gone _completely_ mental?"

Ginger comes out of the bedroom carrying a silver briefcase in her left hand. Following her are three young Asian women, all looking shell shocked and all splattered to a greater or lesser degree with blood. Looking at Brigitte, she puts down the briefcase, reaches under her sweatshirt, and pulls out a sheet of paper. Then she walks up to Brigitte and hands it to her. As Ginger goes back to pick up the briefcase, Brigitte looks at the paper.

"Oh God, no," Brigitte says. "This _really_ sucks."

We then see what Brigitte sees on the paper. Pictures of Brigitte and Ginger, and smaller pictures of James, Danielle, and Claude. Under the pictures of each werewolf is typed the amount of the reward for her or his death.

"Where did you get this, Ginger?" Brigitte asks.

"From the Firebird," Ginger says. "They had a Beretta with a full clip inside the car."

"Guess we really pissed Roskoff off," Brigitte says.

"Guess so," Ginger says.

Gigi, with a shocked expression on her face, walks into the house wearing Brigitte's sweatshirt and a very short denim skirt. She is shivering.

Brigitte turns to Gigi.

"Go tell the other girls to stay in the house until the police come," Brigitte says. "Don't worry, we won't hurt you."

"On the other hand," Ginger says, suddenly standing very close to the girl. "_Don't_ tell the cops you saw us!"

Gigi looks back towards Brigitte with a terrified expression. Brigitte puts her hand gently on the Gigi's shoulder while looking significantly at Ginger.

"_We_ won't hurt you," she says.

Then Brigitte opens the trench coat.

"Trade you," she says. When Brigitte opens the trench coat, she reveals that she is wearing a grey cropped tee shirt and that her blue jeans are rolled up from her bare feet, obviously to preserve the illusion that she was Gigi. Gigi takes off Brigitte's sweat shirt, which Brigitte takes and puts back on.

Gigi then walks down the hall and gently herds the other girls into one of the other bedrooms. From behind the door, we suddenly hear several girls voices talking excitedly in a language that is not English.

"So what happened to those two guys from the Firebird, Ginger?" Brigitte asks. "Did you…?"

"What do _you_ think?" Ginger asks. We start to hear sirens. "Time to go, B."

* * *

As the police sirens get louder, the Hunter slips silently and gracefully into the house.

He looks at Crow's corpse, then at Yuri's.

""Well, Red," the Hunter says very softly. "It looks like Peter was correct. You are quite the little pro after all."

The Hunter moves through the house quietly and quickly. As he steps over the trench coated guard and into the room Ginger dropped into, the door to the other bedroom door opens and Gigi sticks her head out. The Hunter re-emerges and smiles at the girl, who is obviously terrified. He puts his finger to his mouth and pulls back his plaid shirt to show her his gun.

"Two girls?" asks the Hunter in a whisper. "One with red hair, one with black?"

"Brown," Gigi whispers back, her wide eyes still on the gun.

"_Dark_ brown?" the Hunter asks. "_Almost _black?"

Gigi nods, apparently too terrified to continue speaking.

"Thank you," the Hunter says. "Now go back in and wait for the police."

The sirens are very loud now. Our view shifts to the front door, and two police officers, one man, one woman, come in with guns drawn.

The man talks into his lapel mic.

"Two, no _three_ dead," he says.

The male officer moves his head in the direction of the interior of the house. He moves back towards the back bedrooms, stepping over the body of the trench coated man. The female officer moves to look into the open kitchen, then backs back out.

"No one in the kitchen," she says.

"Two _more_ dead in here!" the male officer says as he comes out of the bedroom. He then jerks his head towards the other bedroom door, which is closed. They approach the closed door together. The man's hand reaches for the doorknob.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..One plain clothes officer walks through the yellow tape of a police line, holding up his badge. After he is let through, he meets another plain clothes officer.

"So, what have we got?"

"Five guys shot dead in the house, but we also got four alive but very frightened Thai girls. They insist they saw nothing, but based on the fact that we recognize one of the dead guys as a sometimes associate of Peter Roskoff, we figure this was a warehouse."

"White slavery?"

"Yup."

"We've also got two more guys, dead with broken necks, next to a Pontiac Firebird stopped three blocks away at an intersection."

"Customers?"

"Probably, I think we ought to…"

The conversation between the two officers fades into the background as they walk away from us. Our view shifts to the growing crowd on the other side of the police line. Weaving effortlessly between the people in the crowd while watching the proceedings is the Hunter. No one in the crowd seems to notice him.

"Hey!" someone shouts. The Hunter turns in the direction of the shout. Our viewpoint follows his gaze until we see a police officer walking towards the spot where the Hunter is standing.

"You with the red hair," the uniformed officer says to a large, red bearded man. "Quit pushing!"

There is no longer any sign of the Hunter among the crowd.

Our view now shifts to the street well away from the crime scene. The Hunter is walking along the street. He pulls out his cell phone, punches in a number, and brings it to his ear.

"Hello, Grandmother?" he says. "Yeah, it's me. I've _seen_ them."

We hear an angry sounding female voice through the phone.

""Yeah," he says. "I _know _it's been 4 years. Yeah, I'm _still _working for him. Yes, I _know_ he is a total bastard."

The Hunter listens to a continued angry tirade that ends in what sounds like a question, although we can't make out any of her words.

"Who _else_?" he says. "The _red and the black_, of course."

He pauses to listen some more.

"Yeah, I'm _sure_," the Hunter says. "Two young female werewolves, one with red hair, and one with really dark hair."

He listens some more.

"Yeah, I know," the Hunter says. "I _remember_."

He listens some more. The voice on the other side of the phone is surprisingly loud and very angry, but we can't make out what she says.

"I _said_ I _remember_!" the Hunter says. "Yeah. Yeah. Goodbye."

He folds up the phone and shakes his head.

"Shit," he says.

* * *

We now see the interior of a very dark and dingy shop. We then hear a buzzer being pushed repeatedly. The buzzer continues as the lights go on, and we hear a sleepy voice yell:

"Just a fucking minute!"

The buzzer continues to be pushed. A very large and fat man with disheveled black hair, a full mustache and a fuller beard, shuffles in from the back of the shop. He wears black jeans, flip flops, and a black shirt with white letters that read:

FUCK EVERYONE ELSE!

I WANT WHAT'S MINE!

In his right hand, he carries a pistol. As he approaches the front door, he stops shuffling, kicks off his flip flops, and moves with surprising agility to stand with his back against the wall next to the door.

"Stop pushing the fucking buzzer and tell me who you are!" he says loudly.

The buzzer stops, and we hear Ginger's voice say:

"It's Red, Clarence!"

Clarence unlocks the door and backs away from it at an angle.

"Door's unlocked," he says. "Come on in."

"First put the goddamn Luger down," Ginger says. "Or I will shoot you in the knees and feed you your little Nazi toy."

Clarence pales, swallows nervously, and puts his gun down on the floor.

"It's gone," he says.

The door opens. Ginger walks through the door into the shop. Brigitte follows. Ginger is holding the metal brief case. The case is still splattered with blood. Brigitte looks at the gun on the floor.

"Just leave it, B," Ginger says. "Clarence can pick it up after we leave."

Clarence moves behind the counter to his shop. It is obviously a gun shop, with guns, mostly hand guns, on display in glass cabinets behind him. Ginger slams the case loudly on the counter and opens it to reveal that it has several hundred dollars in it, although it is not full by any means.

"Good to see you again, Red," Clarence says, his voice friendly but professional. "The usual?"

"The usual," Ginger says. "With the serial numbers filed off."

Clarence goes through the back door into the back of the store.

"Ginger," says Brigitte, coming up next to her sister. "With the rewards on our heads, are you sure this is wise?"

"It's OK, B," Ginger says. "And call me Red here, OK?"

"And who am I supposed to be?" Brigitte asks. "_Black_?"

"Why not?" Ginger says. "Mom's nicknames for us when we were little kids. Good as any."

Clarence walks back into the front of the shop, carrying another briefcase.

"It's for her," Ginger says, jerking her head towards Brigitte.

Clarence puts the briefcase in front of Brigitte.

"So has she replaced Big Dog?" Clarence asks Ginger while looking at Brigitte.

"Yeah," Ginger says. "At least for today."

Clarence walks over to Ginger and her open briefcase. Ginger takes out half the money and gives it to Clarence.

"Am I going to have some Russians looking for this money?" he asks.

"No comment," Ginger replies.

"Me either," Clarence says as he stuffs the money into his pants under the shirt.

Brigitte opens the briefcase Clarence gave her. It contains a disassembled high powered rifle with scope. Brigitte starts to put it together with practiced efficiency. In less than half a minute, she has the rifle together and is looking through the sight.

"Wow, B," Ginger says. "I'm impressed."

"Didn't sleep through _all_ of killer class, Red," Brigitte replies as she starts to take the gun apart again.

"You know," Clarence says. "There's quite a reward out for you two."

Brigitte looks up with immediate suspicion, but Ginger doesn't seem bothered by Clarence's comment.

"Yeah," Ginger says. "B here is afraid that you are going to try to collect it."

Clarence chuckles and looks at Brigitte.

"I don't take sides, B," Clarence says. "Bad for business. 'Course, I will give you some unsolicited advice. Crossing Peter Roskoff, _**very **_bad for your health."

"Bit late for that advice _now_," Ginger says.

"Yeah," Clarence says. "Better hope you finish your business with Roskoff before the Hunter finds you."

"The Hunter?" Ginger asks.

"Yeah," Clarence says. "Aboriginal guy. Not very tall, kind of mild looking. He's technically freelance, but he has been doing Roskoff's most difficult killings for four years now. He's supposed to be the best there is."

"Yeah, well," Ginger says as she closes the metal briefcase. "See ya."

After the door closes behind the departing Fitzgerald sisters, Clarence says sadly, "I don't think so."

* * *

Our view returns to the interior of Clarence's store. Suddenly, there is a rattling of the front door and then it opens, and slipping silently through is the Hunter, a small flashlight between his teeth, and a lock pick in one hand and an electronic device of some sort in the other. He slips his lock pick into his pocket. Then he fiddles with a dial on his small electronic device. There is a quick but low buzz. The Hunter averts his eyes, then there is a bright flash. He then puts the electronic device down on the floor and effortlessly vaults the counter.

We see Clarence asleep in bed, snoring softly. We see the blade of a hunting knife lightly, so very lightly, touch Clarence's hairy cheek. Clarence rubs the offended cheek lightly but doesn't wake up. Then, the knife blade touches his cheek lightly again. Clarence opens his eyes, and a hand covers his mouth.

"Shhhhhh," the Hunter says. "Don't shout, don't try anything."

Clarence nods frantically, and the Hunter takes his hand away from his mouth.

"How…how did you get in here?" Clarence asks.

"The power for your entire block is out," the Hunter says.

"I have battery back up," Clarence says.

"Small EMP," the Hunter replies.

"No _shit_?" Clarence replies. "Can you tell me where to get one of those? I've had a lot of interest in them."

"Sure," the Hunter says. "Now, tell me whether you were visited earlier tonight."

"Hunter," Clarence says. "Like I tell all my customers, I don't take sides, it's bad for business."

"Oh," the Hunter says. "I see. I understand. I really have to admire a man who puts his business principles over self preservation."

"No!" Clarence says. "No _wait_! I'm not _that_ principled!"

"Oh," says the Hunter, sounding mildly disappointed in Clarence for his moral failure. "So you _are_ going to tell me who was here?"

"Yeah, yeah," Clarence says. "Two…two girls...one with red hair, the other…"

"…with dark hair," the Hunter finishes. "Yes. Thank you so much. I will, of course, hold our exchange in strictest confidence."

"Hey!" Clarence says. "Great! Thanks!"

"Oh," the Hunter says. "And I'll tell my source for the EMP that you are interested. If he is agreeable, I'll tell him how to contact you."

"Hey, great!" Clarence says. "Thanks!"

"Good night, Clarence," the Hunter says. "I'll lock up for you."

"Great!" Clarence says. "Thanks!"

The Hunter leaves. Clarence lies in bed, listening as the Hunter locks his front door.

"Man," Clarence says. "Those bitches are _so_ dead."

* * *

The sun is rising over downtown Toronto.

Our view now becomes a street corner. A taxi pulls up, and Brigitte gets out. She is now wearing a black skirt, short but not extremely short, a white blouse, a black blazer, and black hose. On her feet are sensible but formal shoes, good for walking, but dressy enough for a female executive to wear to work. Following Brigitte out of the taxi is Ginger. Ginger is wearing light blue jeans, a white tee shirt, and a tan jacket. She is still wearing the white Nikes she was before, and she is holding the briefcase that contains the disassembled rifle.

"B," Ginger says.

"Oh…yeah," Brigitte says. She takes some bills out of her purse and hands them to the driver. "Keep the change."

Before Brigitte finishes talking, the driver drives off, causing her to step back rapidly.

"That was rude," Brigitte says.

"Never mind him," Ginger says. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I guess," Brigitte says. "But I really hate the name."

"Don't blame me," Ginger says. "Claude came up with it, you know how he is."

"Well, it sucks," Brigitte says.

"Hey," Ginger says. "Quit whining, _You_ got the easy part."

"You sure this will work?" Brigitte asks.'

"B, Claude was good at this stuff _before_ he became a werewolf," Ginger says. "He got you the ID and the appointment."

"When did you talk Claude into doing this?" Brigitte asks.

"Right after Rowlands gave you the assignment," Ginger says. "You were too busy studying Roskoff to notice."

"Ginger, I've never known you to be so proactive about anything in your life," Brigitte says.

"Yeah," Ginger says. "I'm showing unexpected depths of maturity, huh?"

"Well, I would have thought so if you had come up with a better sounding name," Brigitte says.

"I'm gone," Ginger says. "And quit whining about the fucking name."

Brigitte opens her mouth as if to say something, but Ginger is already walking away.

"Shit," she says.

Brigitte turns and walks into the office building she is standing next to. She goes up to a reception table, similar to the one in the lobby of the "Canadian Center for Exotic Disease Control", occupied by two security guards.

"Appointment?" one of them asks, a large woman with very intelligent eyes.

"Yeah," Brigitte says. "Beatrice Fanny."

The other security guard, a skinny man with sandy hair, turns his head and snorts slightly. The big woman briefly glares at the other security guard before turning back to Brigitte.

"Never mind him, hon," the woman says. "You _do_ have an appointment with Mr. Finn. Take the elevator to the 42nd floor, go to your right, and it will be the fourth door to your left."

"Thank you," Brigitte says.

Brigitte gets into the elevator. Our view switches to the inside of the elevator. At first, she is one of six other people, but as the elevator travels up, in acquires more passengers. By the time it reaches the 42nd floor, Brigitte has been crowded to the back. Her eyes shift back and forth and she is obviously extremely uncomfortable. On the 42nd floor, everyone gets off. Brigitte cautiously shuffles off the elevator, and is the last one out. She turns to her right, but walks right past the fourth door to her left and continues to walk until she comes to a door that says STAIRS ROOF. Brigitte tries to open it, and finds it locked. She waits, puts her head down, braces her left foot against the door frame, and then gives a hard tug with her right hand. There is a slight crunch, so she gives it another tug, and the door doesn't move.

"Shit," she says.

* * *

In Peter Roskoff's penthouse, Long Sideburns knocks on a door. The door opens, and a large bathrobe clad hand reaches out and tugs Sideburns in.

Our view now shifts to the inside of the room. Long Sideburns looks horrified, then he looks sick. He raises his right hand to his mouth and starts to make retching sounds.

"The bathroom is to the left," says Roskoff. He is clad in a bathrobe, all of which except for his right sleeve is covered with blood. Blood dribbles out of his mouth and bearded chin, and his left arm and hand are dripping with it. As Long Sideburns runs retching towards the bathroom, we see a bed that is likewise covered with blood and a jumbled mess of bones, flesh, and viscera that is in no way shaped like a human being. Roskoff himself is wide eyed, and looks completely insane.

As we hear Long Sideburns vomit into the toilet, Roskoff says:

"Don't take too long, I need to wash up."

* * *

Brigitte gives the door to the stairs another futile tug, then puts her head against it.

"Damn it," she whispers.

"Excuse me, are you Miss Beatrice Fanny?" a young male voice says.

Brigitte doesn't respond.

"Excuse me, Miss _Fanny_?" the voice says again, louder and more insistent.

Brigitte turns around and sees a young man, not much taller than her, in a brown suit with a green tie. He wears wire rim glasses.

"I'm Mr. Finn, Miss Fanny," he says. "You had an interview with me?"

Brigitte looks mortified.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I must have gotten lost."

"Oh, no," Finn says as he takes out a set of keys. "I _did_ interview you, and I decided that you are not appropriate for a custodial job with us."

As Finn says this, he winks at Brigitte and unlocks the door.

"Shall I see you out?" he asks as he opens the door.

Brigitte nods as she runs up the stairs

Now we are on the roof, and the door on the roof opens and Brigitte comes through.

"Ginger?" she calls, quietly but insistently.

There is no response.

"_Ginger_?" she calls again, slightly louder.

As she calls for her sister, Brigitte looks around the roof, and suddenly she sees something. Our view shifts well away from Brigitte so that we see what she is looking at. It is the briefcase with the rifle, laying about 7 feet from the building's edge. Brigitte runs to the briefcase.

"Ginger?" she says again.

"About fucking time."

The voice comes from the edge of the building. Brigitte looks over the edge to see Ginger hanging on by the tips of her fingers. She is hanging over an alleyway which is hundreds of feet below. On the other side, about twenty feet away and twenty feet down, is the edge of another building.

"You tried to _jump_ from the other building?" Brigitte asks. "Are you fucking _crazy_?

"I refuse to answer on the grounds that expending the energy to answer it will result in me falling off the fucking building!" Ginger replies. "Now help me up!"

Brigitte reaches over, grabs Ginger's right wrist with her left hand, and with just the slightest grimace of effort pulls her up.

"What _took_ you so long, B?" Ginger asks as she flexes her fingers. "Didn't you find Finn?"

"He found me," Brigitte replies. "I didn't know that I really was supposed to have an _appointment_ with him. I thought that was just to get me in the fucking building."

"So you…" Ginger says.

"…walked past his office and looked for the door to the roof?" Brigitte says. "Yeah, that's what I did."

"The _solid steel_ door in the _solid steel_ doorframe?" Ginger asks. "The one that is always _**locked**_?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Jesus Christ, B," Ginger says. "I just about lost it out here."

"I'm _sorry_, OK?" Brigitte says.

"Oh well," Ginger says, handing Brigitte the briefcase. "We're on the same page _now_, right?"

"Yeah," says Brigitte.

Ginger and Brigitte walk over to the other side of the building. There is an elevated brick rectangle that contains dirt. Obviously, there was once a rooftop garden there, but now there are just a few, sad, dried up remains of weeds. Ginger and Brigitte crouch behind the rectangle. Brigitte opens the briefcase and starts to put together the rifle. Ginger takes out the scope and looks though it. Across the street and about 40 feet lower is Roskoff's penthouse.

"So Finn's the one who took Roskoff's picture," Brigitte says.

"I would guess so," Ginger says. "I see about four guys, all in black trench coats by the way. Don't these guys wear anything else? I don't see Roskoff, though."

Ginger hands Brigitte the scope, and she puts it on the rifle.

As Brigitte starts to look through the scope, she asks:

"What if Roskoff has bullet proof glass?"

"He might," Ginger says. "He's paranoid enough. But we won't know until you take a shot."

"And it's _worth_ a shot, right?" Brigitte replies, the mere beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"_Funny_, B," Ginger replies. "Really funny. Almost as funny as Beatrice Fanny."

"Fuck you, Ginger," Brigitte says good naturedly as she continues to watch Roskoff's penthouse through her rifle's scope.

"If he does have bullet proof glass," Ginger says. "We'll find another way. And if he doesn't, and you nail him, then tonight you'll be back in solid with the pack."

"Ginger, I've _**never**_ been in solid with the pack," Brigitte says. "Other than you, the only one I even mildly get along with is Claude. And even when I'm with you, I usually feel like an outsider."

"Well, you won't be an outsider any more after you finish this," Ginger says.

"That's _**not**_ why I'm doing this, Ginger," Brigitte replies.

Brigitte takes the gun off of her shoulder and turns to look at Ginger.

"In fact, Ginger," she says. "If we are still alive after I kill Roskoff, I am _**not**_ going back to the fucking _**pack**_."

Ginger looks at Brigitte in obvious disbelief. Then she shakes her head.

"B," she says. "That's just crazy talk. If you don't go back to the pack, you don't get the treatment, and if you don't get the treatment, you turn into a 300 plus pound wolf monster that will kill any person she comes across, and then you will die."

"I really don't think so, Ginger," Brigitte says, suddenly showing something rarely seen in Brigitte Fitzgerald before; enthusiasm. "If I can go deep into the forest, where I am likely to only come across deer and elk instead of hikers, I should be OK."

"_B_," Ginger says, her tone patient. "This has already been _explained_ to you. You turn into a werewolf, and the werewolf is a chrysalis for a wolf. Once the wolf hatches out, you are dead and gone."

"Says who?" Brigitte says.

"Says Rowlands and Murphy," Ginger says. "And they've studied this stuff just a little bit more than we have."

"That's just the _point_, Ginger," Brigitte says. "I _have_ listened to what they've said. I've listened very _closely_, in fact. Sure, Rowlands' and Murphy's gene therapy can reverse the change inside the chrysalis from wolf to human, but it's not the gene therapy that causes the human inside to retain all the memories of the person we were before. I mean, if you listen to what Rowlands says, _he_ doesn't know why we kept our memories. It has to be the lycanthropy pathogen that is doing it, not the gene therapy. Rowlands' gene therapy doesn't stop the pathogen, it simply turns it the other way."

"So?" Ginger asks.

"So there's no reason to assume that when the wolf comes out of my chrysalis, that it won't be a wolf with my memories and my personality," Brigitte says. "Sure, it may be wolf memories and wolf personality, but it will still be my memories and my personality. I'll just be a wolf Brigitte instead of a human Brigitte. The best case scenario is I'll be in the forest, and I'll be free. The worst case scenario is that some pack in the forest may make me their bitch, and frankly that won't be a change from what I am now."

"Or," Ginger says. "You might just get your ass killed in the forest."

"That's a middle case scenario," Brigitte says.

"Well, we can talk about this later," Ginger says. "Right now, we need to concentrate on Roskoff."

Brigitte resumes looking through the scope on her rifle.

"I meant what I said, Ginger," Brigitte says. "I'm _**not**_ going back."

"We'll talk about it _later_, B," Ginger says.

* * *

Long Sideburns stands in the bedroom, still looking very pale. We hear the toilet flush, and Roskoff comes out. His face and hands appear to be clean, but his terrycloth robe is still very bloody. Long Sideburns looks at Roskoff, looks away, finds himself looking towards the bed, and closes his eyes.

"Who…or what was that?" Long Sideburns asks, his voice high pitched to the edge of hysteria.

Roskoff looks in the direction of the mess on the bed.

"Oh," he says. "That was…was…_Angel_! _That's_ it! I _just _wanted to thank her for saving my life."

Long Sideburns runs back into the bathroom.

"But midway through," Roskoff continues, as if Long Sideburns was still standing there listening to him. "Midway through I got _hungry_. So _**hungry**__._"

Roskoff then starts to giggle.

"And I think I got a little carried away," he says.

We hear the sounds of vomiting from the bathroom.

"Oh," Roskoff says. He goes over and knocks on the bathroom door. "Be a little more conscientious about flushing more than once this time. There was puke left in the toilet when I was in there before."

From inside the bathroom comes the sound of more vomiting.

"I'm going out to get some smokes," Roskoff says. "Would you like any?"

More vomiting.

"Well, suit yourself."

Roskoff walks out of the bedroom and into the living room. A maid screams, and several of the trench coated bodyguards simply stare at the sight of Roskoff's bloody robe. Roskoff walks over to a table and awkwardly tries to hand roll a cigarette. When he fails to do so, he holds out the paper and tobacco to one of the body guards, who deftly rolls it up for him. Roskoff takes the cigarette without a word, then holds it out for the body guard to light, which he does. Roskoff then walks out of the living room and into his office. He walks over by the window and looks out, taking long drags of his cigarette. The body guards in the office exchange nervous looks upon seeing their employer's bloody appearance.

* * *

Jesus Christ!" exclaims Brigitte. "I see him. And he's got blood all over him."

"Looks like he's gotten started on the homicidal mayhem early," Ginger says. "Better take your shot, B."

We now see through the scope of Brigitte's rifle. We see Roskoff standing and smoking. We see the crosshairs right in the middle of his forehead. We see the glass on the window shatter into a bullet sized hole right where Roskoff's forehead is. Roskoff looks up and slightly to his left.

"Son of a bitch!" Brigitte says.

"Bullet proof glass after all, huh?" we hear Ginger say. We are still looking through Brigitte's scope. Some of the body guards are now huddled around Roskoff trying to get him away from the window.

"No, the bullet's getting through, but it doesn't appear to have hit him," Brigitte says.

"Then _shoot him again_!" Ginger says in an urgent tone.

Brigitte fires again, then again, each time putting a hole in the window where Roskoff's head is. But Roskoff not only doesn't fall, he doesn't even look particularly alarmed.

* * *

"Someone's shooting at me," Roskoff says matter of factly.

"Yes, sir," one of the body guards says. "I think we need to move you away from the window."

Roskoff follows his guards out of the office and into the living room as more bullet holes appear in the glass.

* * *

"Dammit!" yells Brigitte.

"You missed every time?" Ginger says in a tone that is a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.

"I swear I've been lining up the shot correctly, Ginger!" Brigitte says. "I swear it!"

"It's refractory glass," a voice says. "It makes the target appear to the left or right of where he really is. I don't remember which in this case."

Brigitte and Ginger spin to see the Hunter standing behind them, pointing a silenced handgun at them.

"How the fuck did you sneak up on us?" Ginger asks.

"Oh," the Hunter says. "I've snuck up on werewolves before."

Brigitte and Ginger look at one another. When they look back at the Hunter, he still has his gun pointed at them with his right hand, but he has a camera phone in his left.

"Smile for the camera," the Hunter says.

He takes his picture, then says:

"Hey, you have a _lovely _smile."

We now see that Brigitte is indeed genuinely smiling.

"_Why_ the fuck are you smiling _**now**_, B?" Ginger asks. "In case you failed to notice, we're fucking doomed."

"Yeah, Ginger," Brigitte says. "But we're _together_."

"Together forever, B," Ginger replies.

The Fitzgerald sisters then hug warmly. As they separate, Ginger looks at the Hunter.

"Make it quick, OK?" she asks.

"I always do," says the Hunter quietly as he raises his gun.

_**Pfft!**_

_**Pfft!**_

**End Act 2**


	4. Act 3

**Act 3**

Inside Roskoff's penthouse, by the door to the bedroom, Long Sideburns stands by the door, his face still pale. Another bodyguard approaches.

"You don't want to look in there," Long Sideburns says. "Trust me, my friend."

"Mr. Roskoff is acting…peculiar," the other bodyguard says. "He just got a call on his cell phone and…he is _very_ happy."

We hear Roskoff whoop.

"Excellent!" Roskoff yells. "This is a _great _day! Cigars and drinks for everyone!"

"And yet," the other bodyguard says. "His robe is coated with blood, it is starting to stink, and he doesn't even seem to be aware of it."

The other bodyguard then sniffs the air.

"Speaking of stink," he whispers, gesturing towards the door. "What?"

"You _don't _want to know," Long Sideburns repeats.

Suddenly, as if appearing out of thin air, Roskoff is standing among them.

"What does my good friend Mirov _not_ want to know?" he asks Long Sideburns. Roskoff is positively bouncing on the balls of his feet, as if unable to contain his energy.

Mirov's gaze, in response to Roskoff's question, travels to the bedroom door.

"Oh," Roskoff says, now speaking in a whisper. "You are right, my friend. We need to send the rest of the service staff out of here. They will not understand."

"Understand?" Mirov says. Long Sideburns frantically shakes his head.

"_This_!" Roskoff says, throwing open the bedroom door.

"Информация по слову отсутствует!" Mirov says. "(Son of a bitch!)"

Roskoff leans forward conspiratorially towards the other two men.

"I want you two and the other bodyguards to clean this mess up," Roskoff says. "I think you will need lots of bleach, plastic bags for the incinerator, and oh yes! Buckets! _Several_ buckets!!"

Long Sideburns looks at Roskoff.

"But, sir," he says. "A sniper just took some shots at you. Just minutes ago!"

"Yes!" Roskoff says. "Yes, _**they**_ did!"

He pulls out his cell phone and flips it open. The bandaged hand he holds the phone with is now covered with hair, and the nails of the hand are black and claw like. Mirov and Long Sideburns stare at the hand until Roskoff shakes the phone up and down. Long Sideburns elbows Mirov and points at the phone. Our perspective changes so that we see the image on the phone, cradled in Roskoff's furry hand.

The image is grainy, but it clearly depicts Ginger and Brigitte with bullet holes in the middle of their foreheads. Their eyes are wide and glazed, and the brick behind their heads is smeared with red.

"A _present_ from the _Hunter_!" Roskoff says. "The crisis is over!"

There is the sound of an opening wooden box. Roskoff's face immediately shifts expression from ebullient joy to guarded annoyance. He turns and walks rapidly away, further into the living room.

"No, no!" we hear Roskoff say. "You may have cigars, but _not_ the Cubans!!!"

Mirov looks at Long Sideburns and jerks his head towards the bedroom.

"Who?" he asks.

"The head maid," Long Sideburns replies.

"Lovely little _Angel_?" Mirov says sadly. "_Such_ a waste."

* * *

Now we are back on the other rooftop, looking at Ginger and Brigitte lying with their eyes wide and glazed. A small wind blows their hair.

"That," says the Hunter. "_That_ is incredibly convincing. It's almost like I _did _shoot you."

Ginger blinks and reaches up and peels the bullet hole off of her forehead. Brigitte does the same thing.

"We had to do _something_ to overcome these lame joke bullet holes," Ginger says. "Fortunately, the fake blood you got washes out of hair easily."

The Hunter shrugs.

"Hey," the Hunter says. "I got them at Spencers. I've never actually _faked _killing people before."

"Yeah," Brigitte says. "But we have _**lots**_ of experience playing dead."

"Just like fucking _high_ school," Ginger mutters.

The Hunter is still holding his gun on Brigitte and Ginger, particularly on Ginger. He stands a respectable distance away.

"So you wanna tell us _**why**_ you haven't killed us?" Ginger says. "Yet, at least?"

"Long before I made any promise to Peter Roskoff, I made another promise," the Hunter says. "A blood oath, in fact."

"And what do _we_ have to do with _that_?" Brigitte asks as she rolls over and sticks her right index finger in one of the two bullet holes in the brick wall.

The Hunter shrugs.

"Maybe nothing," he says. "So what are your names, your _real _names?"

"Red and Black," Ginger says.

"As in 'the Red and the Black'?" the Hunter says.

Ginger and Brigitte exchange looks.

"'_The_ Red and _the_ Black'?" Brigitte repeats, looking at Ginger. "Don't _we_ sound special?"

The Hunter sighs.

"Come on," he says. "I spared your lives and faked your deaths so that Roskoff will call off the open contract. I've just made your lives a lot easier, not to mention longer. The least you can do is tell me your names."

"Sure, why not?" says Ginger.

"_No, _Ginger, don't tell him anything!" Brigitte says. She then pauses with a very peculiar look.

"_**Fuck!**_" Brigitte says as she squeezes her eyes shut. "I really_ am_ an idiot. James and the others are right about me. I _suck _at clandestine shit!"

The Hunter's eyes go wide. He takes a couple of steps back, probably without being aware of it.

"Hey, B," Ginger says. "Check out the Indian man!"

Ginger starts to get up, and the Hunter immediately recovers and points the gun back towards Ginger. Ginger shrugs and sits back down.

"You look like you've seen a _ghost_, Indian man," Ginger says.

The Hunter shakes his head.

"Just heard one, maybe," he says. He turns towards Brigitte.

"Please tell me your name _**isn't**_ _Brigitte_!" he says.

Brigitte and Ginger look at one another.

"Good guess," Ginger says. "Huh, _**B**_?"

"Holy shit," the Hunter says. "I'll take that as a yes."

Brigitte looks at Ginger. Ginger shrugs.

"Yes," Brigitte says. "I'm Brigitte."

The Hunter sits cross legged on the roof, but he keeps his gun pointed at Ginger.

"Look," he says to the Fitzgerald sisters. "I'd like to make a deal with you."

* * *

Rowlands is in the laboratory when his cell phone rings to the tune of _Mack the Knife_. He pulls out his cell phone while continuing to look through a microscope. Then he looks up and looks at his phone and pushes a button.

He looks at his phone and drops it. His face turns red, and a very deep, inhuman growl comes from behind his lips. He stands up and walks out, leaving his cell phone on the floor.

We pan down to look at the picture on Rowlands' cell phone, and see the Hunter's picture of Ginger and Brigitte's "death".

* * *

"Roskoff needs to die," says Brigitte. "If you know we're werewolves, you've got to know that Roskoff is infected, and you have to know he's likely to spread the infection.

"You have to let us kill him."

"No," the Hunter says. "I can't let you do that. Roskoff hired me to _keep_ you from killing him."

"But you said that you made a promise, no, a _blood oath_, that came before the promises you made to Roskoff," Ginger says.

"Yeah, I did," the Hunter says. "And killing you two would break that blood oath. However, keeping you from killing Roskoff would not be breaking that blood oath."

"Forget the fucking blood oath," Brigitte says.

"No," Ginger says. "Let's _not _forget the fucking blood oath, B. It's what's keeping us alive."

"We can't let Roskoff continue," Brigitte says. "It looks like he already killed somebody werewolf style, and for all we know he's on the verge of infecting someone else, if he hasn't already, and it will be _**my fucking fault if he does**_."

"There is a solution," the Hunter says. "But there is a price."

"What's the solution?" Ginger asks.

"_I_ kill Roskoff," the Hunter says.

"Uhm," Ginger says. "Didn't you make a promise to him? Isn't that why you aren't letting _us_ kill him?"

"Well, yeah," the Hunter says. "But believe it or not, I haven't made a promise regarding _me_ not killing him. Roskoff never saw a reason to ask for one, and honestly neither did I, at least until I saw you two at the club."

Yeah, how's the hair?" Ginger asks.

"Ok," the Hunter says. "I have strong roots."

"Sorry about that."

"Hey, no problem. I hit you in the head with a gun first."

"Wait a minute," Ginger says. "You were about to _shoot_ my sister then."

"Actually, you yanked right after the moment that I knew who you were," the Hunter says. "I _wasn't_ about to shoot your sister."

"And who are we?" Brigitte says.

"Well, that's related to the deal I'm wanting to make," the Hunter says. "I kill Roskoff…"

He looks at Brigitte.

"…and dispose of his body so that there is no chance of accidental spread of infection. Then, you let me take you to the person who can answer that question."

"And who's that?" Ginger asks.

"It's a surprise," the Hunter says.

"B," Ginger says, turning to Brigitte. "I think we can still do this ourselves. We run to the door and then find another way to kill Roskoff."

Brigitte looks at the Hunter.

"You have a deal," Brigitte says.

"_**B**_, this is fucking crazy!" Ginger says. "I'm going now."

Ginger starts to get up but Brigitte grabs her arm.

"Don't be a fool, Ginger," Brigitte says. "He can shoot us both in the legs, load us in the trunk of his car, and still keep his oath. Besides which, no way are we ever going to have the kind of access to Roskoff that he does. It doesn't matter _who_ pulls the fucking trigger, Ginger. It just matters that it gets done."

"But, B," Ginger says, her voice now quiet and scared. "If we go with him and don't get back to the pack, we don't get the treatment. If we don't get the treatment…"

Tears start to run down Ginger's face.

"I'm a killer, B, just like him," she says, jerking her head towards the Hunter. "I'm bad, _**really**_ bad. But that doesn't mean that I _**ever**_ want to go back to being the kind of psycho killer I was before. The kind of killer who killed Trina and Sam and Mr. Wayne and the janitor and enjoyed it."

"You won't, Ginger," Brigitte says.

"I _will_, B," Ginger says. "I don't have your kind of strength."

"For safety's sake," the Hunter says. "I'm going to have to insist that I have verbal acceptance from _**both**_ of you on this deal. I have it from Brigitte. Ginger?"

"If we go and visit this person you want us to talk to," Ginger says. "You have to agree to let us go afterwards. There's a treatment that keeps us human."

"Ginger, don't tell him that," Brigitte says. "He'll think he can get the treatment for Roskoff."

"No worries," the Hunter says. "I already know about the treatment."

He looks at Brigitte.

"You're right," the Hunter says. "You don't want Roskoff running around even as a _treated _werewolf."

"So what now?" Ginger asks.

"You stay here and watch the penthouse with the scope," the Hunter says. "Once you see proof that I've held up my end of the bargain, you follow the escape plan you set up with Finn. Then you meet me tonight at this address, and I'll take you to go see the person who can answer the question 'who are you?' better than you can."

The Hunter pulls an envelope out of the pocket of his plaid flannel shirt and tosses it in front of Ginger and Brigitte. Ginger and Brigitte both look at the envelope. Ginger reaches out and picks it up, then both sisters look up.

The Hunter is gone.

"How the fuck does he _do_ that?" Ginger asks.

* * *

Two maids and a couple of men in black slacks, white coats and black bow ties are being herded to the elevator by three of Roskoff's bodyguards. The elevator door opens, and the Hunter strides out. The staff then board the elevator.

"You should go too," the Hunter says to one of the bodyguards.

The bodyguards all look at one another. They are all clearly ill at ease. One of them nods and gets in the elevator. Once he does so, the other two follow.

The elevator door closes, and the Hunter starts towards the living room. Coming around the corner are Mirov and Long Sideburns with sponges and plastic bags.

"What are you doing?" the Hunter asks.

Long Sideburns jerks his head in the direction of the bedroom. The Hunter looks in. Then he looks at Long Sideburns.

"Have you started the clean up?" he asks.

"No," Long Sideburns says. "We need more buckets."

"Good," the Hunter says with a nod. "Don't worry about it. You and Mirov leave, start going down the stairs. When you come across a fire alarm, pull it."

Long Sideburns and Mirov look at one another.

"You really want to stay here?" the Hunter asks. "Do you really want to come between Roskoff and me?"

Long Sideburns and Mirov both pale at the Hunter's words. Without a word, they put down the sponges and bags and walk away. The Hunter turns and walks into the living room. Roskoff is smoking a cigar, still clad in his blood drenched robe. He is seated in an easy chair, but he gets up easily as the Hunter enters.

"Well done, my friend," Roskoff says. "But perhaps you will tell me why you are sending my bodyguards away."

"Peter, you do many things that most people would find reprehensible," the Hunter says. "You do things that_ I_ find reprehensible. But you always keep your word, and your promises."

"Yes, I do," Roskoff says. "As do you."

"So a man makes two promises to two different people," the Hunter says. "When he makes the second promise, he doesn't think it has any relation to the first, but the day comes when he can't keep one promise without breaking the other. What, as an honorable man, should he do in such a situation?"

"Keep the first promise, of course," Roskoff says. Then, in an astonishing act of agility, speed, and strength, he picks up his easy chair and throws it at the Hunter. The Hunter sidesteps the throw easily, but Roskoff is no longer in the room.

"I tell you my friend," we hear Roskoff's voice say. "If this _is_ dying, _every_ man should die like this. The increased strength, the enhanced senses, and the new and improved appetites, they are _wonderful_!"

Suddenly, Roskoff is there, picking up the Hunter and slamming him against the nearest wall. His left, human hand has captured the Hunter's gun hand, and his right arm with the fur covered hand is across the Hunter's throat. Roskoff growls, then smiles. His teeth, particularly his canines, are noticeably larger.

"So who is this other person you made a promise to?" Roskoff asks.

As if out of nowhere, the Hunter raises his knee into Roskoff's face. Roskoff gives a surprised cry of pain and backs away, raising his right hand to his face. The Hunter lands on his feet. Roskoff's hand comes down and we see that his nose is broken. He is having trouble breathing, and we soon realize that this is not just because of a broken nose. It's something in the lungs. Roskoff falls to his knees.

"My grandmother," the Hunter answers. "When I was 7 years old."

Roskoff tries to reply, but doesn't seem able to summon up the air. He coughs blood, then falls to his hands and knees, and we now see a large hunting knife stuck hilt deep in his back.

"Goodbye, Peter," the Hunter says.

_**Pfft!**_

The Hunter puts his gun into the holster on his belt, hidden under the oversized paid flannel shirt he wears. He goes into a supply closet and comes out with two sets of latex gloves. With some difficulty, he puts both pairs on, one on top of the other. Then he reaches down and grabs Roskoff's hands and starts to pull him towards the office.

* * *

Ginger is watching through the scope.

"There he is," she says to Brigitte. "It looks like he's pulling Roskoff's body. It's got a big hairy knife in the back and, yeah, looks like blood and brains on the back of his head."

Brigitte makes a face.

"Thanks for the detailed play by play," she says.

"Looks like he's keeping his end of the bargain," Ginger says.

"The first half anyway," Brigitte says.

Suddenly, both Brigitte and Ginger raise their heads.

"Hear that?" Ginger says.

"Yeah," Brigitte says. "The building's fire alarm."

Then, Ginger and Brigitte both tilt their heads, canine fashion.

"Now alarms are going off in the fire stations," Brigitte says.

Ginger puts the scope back to her eye.

"He's taking something out of his shirt pocket," Ginger says. "It looks a small incendiary with a remote activator."

Brigitte stands up and walks to the edge of the building and looks down. We now hear multiple fire sirens.

"People are running out of the building," Brigitte says.

"The Hunter's run off," Ginger says, putting down the scope. The sirens are getting louder, reaching a crescendo and then, one by one, going off. "I think we can go now."

"Not until I see it," Brigitte says.

"B," Ginger says. "I think it's a done deal."

"I'm _waiting_, Ginger," Brigitte says. Then suddenly, Brigitte's face is bathed in orange light, and a second later there is a wooshing sound, and the distant sound of breaking glass.

"OK," Brigitte says. "Now we can go."

* * *

Ginger and Brigitte are walking along the street, weaving between the gawkers all standing and watching and pointing to the burning building.

"You don't have to do this, Ginger," Brigitte says.

"Do what, B?" Ginger asks. We hear a fire truck honking its horn, and more sirens in the distance.

"Go with me to meet the Hunter," Brigitte says. "I don't want to keep you from the pack."

"Together forever, B," Ginger says.

Brigitte stops walking and looks at Ginger. Ginger looks at Brigitte. People are running back and forth around them.

"Ginger, I meant it," Brigitte says. "I'm _not_ going back there, _ever_."

"But B, it's _OK_ now," Ginger says. "You've proven yourself. We can _both_ go back. _Forget_ the Hunter."

"No," Brigitte says. "I gave him my word."

"So did I," Ginger says.

"You were _pressured_ into it," Brigitte says.

"Then I'm staying with you, B," Ginger says. "At least until we talk to the Hunter's friend, whoever that is. But then you come back with me. Things will be different there, you'll see."

"It doesn't matter, Ginger," Brigitte says. "It doesn't matter if we go back and I am proclaimed Queen High Alpha of the pack, I want no part of it. It's nothing but a cage, Ginger, an elaborate cage. And the only thing they let us out for is killing people. I _**won't live that way, Ginger**_!"

Ginger looks hard at Brigitte.

"I can force you to go back," Ginger says.

"No," Brigitte says, her voice and gaze duplicating the intensity she showed in the diner. "You _can't_. Not without killing me anyway."

Tears start to run down Ginger's face again.

"B, please," Ginger pleads. "_Please_ don't make me choose between you and the pack."

"You don't _have_ to, Ginger," Brigitte says. "I won't love you any less if you go back to the pack. You've got things good there. I _understand_."

Ginger shakes her head.

"No, you don't," she says. "You don't understand at _all_."

"Ginger," Brigitte says. "You were doing well with the pack. You moved up to the top, you got your GED, and you started on college, all before I got there."

"I was trying to please _Rowlands_!" Ginger says. "I remembered when you exposed yourself to my blood, when you infected yourself. Then while I was under you ran away. When I came out of my chrysalis, you were long gone. Rowlands told me that the monkshood you were taking would only delay the progression of the disease, not end it.

"You're my sister, Brigitte! I love you for that, but I love you for more than that. The only decent impulses I've ever had in my life came from wanting to protect you. Rowlands said that we would find you when you started to kill. The last thing I wanted was for you to become the kind of monster I was. You're better than that, B! You've _always_ been better than that!! So I tried to be a _good_ girl, a good student and eventually a good little killer. So that Rowlands would _like_ me more, so that he would go and find you. And when we finally did find you, I made the vow again. _**Together forever**_, Brigitte. Where you go, I go! You're the best part of me, the _only_ good part of me!"

As Ginger sobs lightly, Brigitte reaches up a hand and gently brushes away one of Ginger's tears.

"See, that's where you're _stupid_, Ginger," Brigitte says. "The desire to have decent impulses is a decent impulse in and of itself."

"I'm not _leaving_ you, B," Ginger says. "If I have to, I choose you over the pack any day."

The two sisters touch foreheads, and Brigitte smiles through her own tears.

"Good," she says. "Because I was scared to death to do this without you."

* * *

We see James, Danielle, and Claude all sitting facing us on a couch. The lights are low and we see the flickering of a television on their faces. Then, we hear an anchor woman's voice.

"Our top story tonight," the voice says. "A suspected major figure in Russian organized crime was believed to have been killed today when a firebomb went off in his penthouse in downtown Toronto. We go live to our correspondent Owen Jarrett for more."

"Thank you, Jane," a male voice says. "Piotr Roskoff is believed to have been in his penthouse when the bomb went off. The remains of one other person may have been found in the smoking ruins as well. Interestingly, however, the fire alarm went off before the bomb did, and it is believed that the building was successfully evacuated before the explosion. Fire fighters also were given sufficient notice by the alarms to control the blaze before it did much damage to the lower floors. Among the evacuees are most of Roskoff's known associates. This has led police to speculate that this killing may have been an inside job"

"Damn," James says. "Ginger did it, she really did it. What a clever bitch."

"Maybe it was Brigitte," Claude says. When James and Danielle both give him looks that declare him an idiot, Claude simply smiles.

"Ginger wouldn't be so careful about bystanders," Claude points out. "Brigitte would."

A door opens behind the couch and Rowlands stands in it.

"James," Rowlands says. "Come with me."

* * *

Our view shifts to Rowlands and James entering Rowlands' office.

"You've got to admit," James says. "Ginger really came through on this one."

"It wasn't Ginger," Rowlands says.

"You think it was the other one?" James says with a snort.

"No, her neither," Rowlands says. "Someone is mocking us."

James' face loses its amused expression.

"What are you talking about, Wallace?" James asks.

"This," Rowlands says, holding out his cell phone. James takes it away from him and looks at it intently.

"What the _fuck_?" James says.

"That picture was sent to my cell phone before the explosion in Roskoff's penthouse," Rowlands says. "Thus, it is apparent that whoever killed Roskoff first killed the Fitzgerald sisters."

"_Wait_ a minute," James says. Then he starts to laugh. The laugh becomes a guffaw, and tears start to roll down his face.

Rowlands looks at James as if he has gone mad. His right hand reaches swiftly down to James left shoulder, and he starts to squeeze. James stops laughing and makes a pained face.

"Do you mind telling me what the _fuck_ you think is so funny about this?" Rowlands asks, his voice icy.

James winces, but still smiles in response to the question.

"Look at the picture," James says. "The quality isn't very good, but does anything strike you as off?"

Rowlands looks at the picture intently, then looks at James.

"Look at the bullet holes in their foreheads," James says. "They look exactly alike. You ever see two bullet holes look exactly alike before?"

Rowlands relaxes slightly. He sits on his desk.

"You're right," Rowlands says.

"You remember what the Fitzgerald sisters' hobby was before Ginger went and got herself bit?" James asks.

Rowlands looks up at him. He narrows his eyes.

James chuckles.

"Their hobby was playing dead for the camera," James says.

Rowlands looks at the cell phone picture again.

"They were pushing your buttons," James says. "I'm betting Ginger killed Roskoff, then they set off an incendiary after getting out and setting up their little photography stunt."

"That makes sense," Rowlands says. "But I have to wonder, just _who_ took the picture?"

James shrugs.

Rowlands closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"That will be all, James," he says.

James gets up and leaves. Rowlands looks at the cell phone. Then he closes it and goes to his desk phone. He dials a number.

"Send me _all _of the intel on Roskoff's known associates, will you, Greta?" he says. "Thank you."

He sits at his desk and rolls and clicks the mouse on his computer.

"Business partners…bodyguards…middle management…contract workers…" Rowlands says, talking to himself. Then he stops. His face turns red and angry. He stands up. Then he picks up the computer monitor and throws it into one of his walls. The computer and keyboard are yanked along with it. The plaster on the wall breaks, and the monitor shatters. Underneath the plaster we see a surface that looks like a steel bulkhead.

"_God __**damn**__ it I am a __**fool**_!!" Rowlands yells. It is the last coherent thing he yells. His next utterance is a human scream of frustration that turns into an inhuman, deep snarl. Rowlands bends his knees, reaches down, and lifts the right side of his desk with his left hand and arm. As he stands back up, he topples the desk lengthwise onto its side so that it brushes up against the ceiling, knocking plaster off of it, and revealing the same kind of steel bulkhead surface underneath. Then the desk continues over until it is completely upended. Many of the objects, pictures, etc, on Rowlands' desk fall off as he topples his desk, and several of them are presumably crushed underneath it when the top smashes down into the floor. As the sound of the crash dies down in his office, Rowlands throws his head back and, with canine teeth now elongated, _howls_.

* * *

As the sound of Rowlands' howl still echoes in our heads, the scene suddenly shifts to the interior of a small barroom, specifically the front door. Coming through the door are Ginger and Brigitte Fitzgerald. Brigitte is back in her blue jeans, grey sweatshirt, and white Nikes. Ginger is dressed as she was earlier, light blue jeans, white tee shirt, tan jacket, and white Nikes.

The bar is small and crowded. Everyone in the bar is a Canadian Aboriginal, many wearing western outfits. To the sisters' left is a small bar, and to their right are several cheap Formica and chrome tables, also all occupied.

The nearest man sitting at the bar, with long hair and a cowboy hat, inquires firmly but politely:

"Are you two lost?"

Ginger and Brigitte look at one another.

"No," Brigitte starts to say. "We're meeting some-"

"They're with me," the Hunter says, walking up from the back of the barroom.

The man with the cowboy hat looks at the Hunter.

"And who are _you_?" he asks.

"He's with _me_, Louis," another voice says.

Louis nods and resumes his seat. Our perspective moves around until we now see the back of the barroom, which doesn't go very far beyond the bar itself. However, cramped in the back between where the bar stops and the back wall, there is a small round table, and seated in a chair facing the front door is an old woman in a worn wool jacket, blue jeans, and black cowboy boots.

Upon seeing the old woman, Brigitte and Ginger look at each other.

"Holy _shit_!" Ginger says.

_**Flashback 4**_

_We are inside what looks like an indoor flea market. Woodchips cover what looks to be a dirt floor, and in the distance we can see prefab metal walls. Tables, covered with varied wares, antiques, and artwork, are all around. Walking an aisle between rows of tables are two small girls. The taller, older girl appears to be about 7 or 8, the other girl a year younger. The older girl has red hair, the younger girl has honey blond hair._

"_Ginger," we hear a maternal voice say. The voice is recognizable as Pamela Fitzgerald's to anyone who has seen the original __**Ginger Snaps**__. "Keep an eye on your sister. You know how she likes to wander."_

_In response, young Ginger playfully gives young Brigitte a push with her shoulder._

"_**Yeah**__, B," she says. "Don't fucking __**wander**__."_

_An older woman at the table nearest to them, who is selling red and yellow wooden and fabric chickens obviously designed to be hung in a kitchen, makes a face at young Ginger._

"_**Language**__, children!" the woman says. _

"_English," young Brigitte replies. "None of that French crap for us."_

_Young Ginger snorts and the woman, who had indeed spoken with a light French accent, sniffs and starts to pay closer attention to her chickens._

"_**Good**__ one, B!" Young Ginger says. _

_Young Brigitte, however, has apparently already forgotten her rude witticism. _

"_Oooooh, Ginger, look!" young Brigitte says, intently looking at something. She starts running towards whatever she is looking at._

"_Hey!" young Ginger says crossly. "Pamela said no __**wandering**__!"_

_Young Ginger then runs after her sister. Young Brigitte has stopped and is standing and staring at the objects hanging around and off of a table. Seated at the table is the old woman from the bar. She doesn't look any younger. _

"_What are these?" young Brigitte asks, her eyes wide. "They look __**so cool**__." _

_Young Ginger walks up next to her sister. _

"_They look lame to me," she says as she looks at the old Aborignal woman. "What are they?"_

"_Spirit catchers," the old woman says. As young Ginger takes young Brigitte's hand, the old woman says:_

"_I see you are sisters. Are you __**close**__ sisters?"_

"_What do you mean, 'close'?" Ginger replies irritably. "I'm holding her hand aren't I?"_

_The old woman chuckles._

"_Good answer," she says. "I had a sister once, a long time ago. We too were very close."_

_The old woman reaches under her table and pulls out two necklaces, made from thick black string. Hanging from each necklace is a bird skull and a couple of feathers._

"_Now __**those**__ are __**cool**__," young Ginger says. _

_Young Brigitte says nothing at all, but she is clearly fascinated by the necklaces. _

"_These two necklaces were left by their original owners to my sister and me," the old woman says. "Now, I would like to give them to you."_

_Young Brigitte looks very seriously at the old woman, her eyes wide. _

"_We don't have any money," young Brigitte says._

"_Hence my use of the verb, __**give**__," says the old woman. _

"_We can't take those," young Brigitte says. "Don't you have granddaughters or something you want to give those to?"_

"_I have granddaughters, but I don't want to give these to __**them**__," the old woman says. ""I want to give them to __**you**__."_

"_Don't be such a fucking spoilsport, B," young Ginger says. "They look really cool and she wants to give 'em to us. __**Let**__ her!" _

"_Yes, B," the old woman says with a chuckle. "Don't be such a…(ahem!)…spoilsport." _

_The old woman holds the necklaces out. Young Brigitte takes hers reverently. Young Ginger yanks her necklace out of the woman's hand and puts it on immediately._

"_C'mon, B," Ginger says. "Let's give Pamela a heart attack with these things!" _

"_No!" young Brigitte says forcefully. "What do we __**say**__ to the nice lady, Ginger?"_

"_Huh?" young Ginger says. "Oh, sorry. Thank you lady."_

"_**Thank**__ you," young Brigitte says. "We'll treasure these always."_

"_You're welcome," the old woman says. As young Brigitte puts on her necklace, the old woman reaches out and gently runs her hand along Brigitte's hair. _

"_Your hair," the old woman says to young Brigitte. "It's getting darker isn't it?"_

"_Yeah," young Brigitte says. "My mom wants to dye it back blond again, but I __**want**__ it to turn darker."_

"_Of course you do," the old woman says. "My hair used to be dark, and it is getting lighter. It is right that your hair, which used to be light, turns darker, don't you think?"_

_Young Brigitte nods solemnly at the old woman's words. _

_The old woman lets go of young Brigitte's hair. _

"_Soon you and your sister will indeed be 'the Red and the Black'," she says. _

"_Come __**on**__, B," young Ginger says, running back to young Brigitte's side. "Let's show these to Pamela, she'll __**freak**__." _

……………………………………………………………………………………………_._

_The scene shifts as we see young Brigitte and young Ginger, both wearing their new necklaces, both being pulled by the hand by their mother Pamela. _

"_**Where**__ is she?" Pamela asks in a demanding tone._

"_She was __**there**__," young Ginger says, pointing to an empty table. There are no signs of spirit catchers or the old woman. _

"_Blast it!" Pamela says. "Well, give me your necklaces. They're hideous."_

"_**NO**__!!!!" young Brigitte yells forcefully. "You can't take them because they're __**ours**__! The old woman gave them to us because we're __**close**__. We're __**close**__ sisters and she __**wanted**__ us to have them and they're ours and not yours __**so you can't have them**__!!!!"_

_Young Ginger looks at young Brigitte with wide eyes. Pamela looks shocked at her younger daughter's outburst, then she smiles slightly._

"_I've __**never**__ seen you so forceful about __**anything**__, Brigitte," Pamela says. "Your sister yes, but never you. And you've never seemed to really care about much of anything before."_

_Tears roll down young Brigitte's cheeks, but her expression is resolute._

"_Are they really that important to you?" Pamela asks young Brigitte._

_Young Brigitte nods. _

"_And to you?" Pamela asks, turning to young Ginger. Young Ginger looks at young Brigitte. Young Brigitte nods. Young Ginger looks back at her mother and nods too. _

"_All right, then," Pamela says. "You can keep them. But you can __**only**__ wear them in the house."_

"So, where are the necklaces I gave you?" the old woman asks.

Brigitte looks mortified.

"We wore them for years," she says. "We _**did**_. _**Everywhere**__. _But some really awful things have happened."

The old woman nods.

"I imagine they did," the old woman says. "And now that we are all here together, we can go and talk about them."

"Go where?" Ginger asks.

"My place," the old woman says. "Where I will explain the answers to all the questions you didn't even know to ask."

* * *

It is night. We follow a red Ford Escape as it moves through a long, wooded driveway. The Escape finally stops before a large, wooden cabin. The doors open, and the old woman gets out of the driver's side door. The front passenger side door opens and the Hunter gets out. Ginger and Brigitte come out of through the back doors.

"Well, here we are," says the old woman.

Our view shifts to inside the cabin as the front door opens. We are in a living room, and the living room is full of spirit catchers hanging from every beam and every lamp and every piece of furniture that is well off the floor. On the inn and coffee tables, of which there are several, and on the couches, again of which there are several, are multitudes of technical journals such as _Science_, _Nature_, _Genetics_, and many others. The furniture that is not covered with journals is dust covered.

"Sorry," the old woman says. "The maid retired twenty years ago and I haven't replaced myself."

Ginger and Brigitte look at each other.

"Can I get you something, like a beer?" the old woman says.

"Sure," says Ginger.

"Ginger," Brigitte says. "You're _eighteen_."

"I'm a fucking _assassin_, B," Ginger says. "And you're worried about my _drinking_ age?"

"So a beer for Ginger," the old woman says. "And you, Brigitte?"

"Water," says Brigitte.

"_Water_," says the old woman. "You're so austere."

The old woman turns to the Hunter.

"Entertain our guests, grandson," she says.

Ginger smirks.

"_Grandson_?" Ginger says.

The Hunter clears his throat. It is obvious that he is uncomfortable with having to figure out how to entertain his guests. While Ginger snickers slightly at his discomfort, Brigitte touches the spirit catchers.

"Your grandmother made _all_ of these?" she asks.

"Yeah," the Hunter says, obviously relieved at Brigitte's ice breaker. "She's been doing it for years."

"Is she some kind of holy woman or something?" Ginger asks.

"…or something," the old woman says as she reenters the room, throwing a Samuel Adams to Ginger. Ginger catches it easily. She throws another to the Hunter.

"You have good taste…what's your name again?" Ginger asks.

"My given name is Sara Ravenwolf," the old woman says. "Pretentious, eh? I always thought I should just stick with Ravenwolf."

Ginger turns to Brigitte.

"I _like_ her," she says.

Ravenwolf hands Brigitte a bottle of water.

"It's from the tap," Ravenwolf says. "I drank the original long ago. But I washed the bottle out thoroughly. It's safe. I'm an evolutionary epidemiologist, so you can trust me."

"Uhm, thanks," Brigitte says.

"You're a _what_?" Ginger says.

"She studies the evolution of diseases," Brigitte says.

Ravenwolf shrugs.

"Close enough," she says. Ravenwolf bends down and shoves a number of journals off of one of the couches and onto the floor.

"Sit down, sit down," Ravenwolf says. "We need to talk."

Ginger and Brigitte sit.

"I…I like your spirit catchers," Brigitte says.

"Thanks," Ravenwolf says. "They sell well and they fund my research, such as it is now. But that's not what I want to talk to you about."

Ravenwolf takes a drink from her own beer.

"So," she says. "I take it you know Wallace Rowlands and John Murphy."

Brigitte and Ginger look at one another.

"Yeah," Brigitte says. "We do."

"They're my students," Ravenwolf says. "Well, my former students anyway. No way do I endorse what those two fools have been doing recently."

"So you know about the lycanthropy pathogen?" Brigitte asks.

"My dear," Ravenwolf says. "I know _more_ about the lycanthropy pathogen than anyone human, including Rowlands and Murphy."

Ginger looks at Brigitte, then back at Ravenwolf, her face excited.

"So, do _you_ have the treatment?" Ginger asks anxiously.

Ravenwolf laughs briefly.

"_Colonel Rowlands_ is funded by the _Department of Defense_," Ravenwolf says. "_I_ sell _spirit catchers_. The treatment costs 120,000 dollars per injection, so what do you think?"

"Oh," says Ginger.

"But I still think I can be of considerable help to you," Ravenwolf says as she clears off some more journals from a coffee table and sits on it, facing the sisters. The Hunter sits cross legged on the floor between them.

"How is that?" Ginger says.

"Shhhh," says Brigitte. "Let's just listen."

"When I first saw the two of you, I told you I used to have a sister," Ravenwolf said. "What I didn't tell you is that she was killed right in front of me by a werewolf in chrysalis form. I was 19 at the time. She was 15."

"I'm sorry," Brigitte says. "That must have been _awful_."

"It was," Ravenwolf says. "Later, the werewolf came back for me, but by then I had a shotgun, and I let the werewolf have both barrels in the mouth. Blew out the back of his skull."

"All right, Ravenwolf!" Ginger says. She turns to Brigitte. "I _like_ her."

"You've said that already," Brigitte says.

"But that wasn't the weird part," Ravenwolf says. "The weird part happened when the chest and the stomach of the werewolf burst outward as a blood covered wolf tore his way out of the carcass. I thought he was going to tear out my throat, but then when he looked at me he looked almost…sorry. Then he turned and ran into the woods."

Ravenwolf takes a swig of her beer.

"It made an impression on me," she says. "It was, after all, more than 30 years before _**Alien **_came out."

Ravenwolf looks at her beer bottle and sighs.

"Grief stricken over the loss of my little sister, I went to my mother, who was naturally grieving herself, and told her about what had happened. I knew my mother sometimes talked with wolves using ravens as intermediaries. I thought maybe she would understand what had happened."

"Wait a minute," Ginger says. "Your mother talked with _birds_ who talked with _wolves_? We're supposed to _believe_ that?"

"So says the _werewolf_," Ravenwolf says, her voice amused.

"_Shut up_, Ginger," Brigitte says. "I want to _hear_ this."

"Well then, at the request of Miss Brigitte, moving on," Ravenwolf says. "My mother gave me a potion to drink. She then told me a story. A story her mother told her as it was told to her by _her _mother: The story of the Red and the Black."

Ravenwolf takes another drink from her beer.

"And sure enough, after I drink the potion and she tells me the story, I have a vision. A vision of both the future and the past."

"I thought you were a scientist," Ginger says. "Do scientists do visions?"

"This one does," Ravenwolf says. "And I am also kind of a mystic, in a materialistic sort of way, anyway."

"Whahuh?" Ginger says.

"_Quit interrupting her_, Ginger," Brigitte says. "I _want_ to hear this."

"Oh, that's OK," Ravenwolf says. "Long story short, space and time, and therefore history itself, is a physical entity. You can run it back to watch what happened, and you can run it forward to watch what is _probably_ going to happen, _**if**_ you get yourself into the right state, have the right sort of training, and probably the right sort of neural architecture."

"That doesn't help me to understand what you are saying at all," Ginger says. "And on pain of headache, I promise I won't interrupt again."

"Very good," Ravenwolf says. "So I have a vision about the Red and the Black. A vision I didn't particularly understand at the time. But, I was determined to learn to understand it, and to understand what I saw. So I went into the world outside my reservation, worked my way through University, and eventually became an expert on biology and genetics and diseases. Then I started to research werewolves. And since werewolves were starting to re-emerge in the forests north of Bailey Downs, I had subjects to study, at least indirectly. Mostly in remote areas, hikers would occasionally vanish. Others would come back traumatized and _then_ vanish, but not before I collected tissue samples from them."

"So is that when you figured out how to treat lycanthropy?" Brigitte asks.

"Oh _no_," says Ravenwolf. "This was the 1950's, Brigitte. Gene therapy was decades away. But in my own stumbling way, I was able to learn a lot about lycanthropy. Still, in order to pay the bills I had to take paying jobs more in the scientific mainstream, and the paying jobs back then involved working for white men who weren't used to working with women, much less young Indian women. They tended to be patronizing, and being young and idealistic, I did not take to that treatment very well. So I ended up quitting my day job, returning to the reservation and marrying the chief's son. Then I had children, then I became the chief's wife, then I had grandchildren, and then I became the chief's widow."

Ravenwolf looks into her beer bottle, squinting one eye, and sighs at its emptiness. She looks at the Hunter and holds it out, cocking an eyebrow. The Hunter, without a word, gets up and takes the empty bottle. We hear a refrigerator door open and bottles clanging together.

"As best I could, I still kept up with my lycanthropy studies and with developments in genetics. But still, I really didn't get very far and one day I looked up and had no husband, no children at home, and I was old. When Captain Wallace Rowlands, an old special forces 'friend' of my son-in-law's, came to visit me and offer me a job with the 'Canadian Center for Exotic Disease Control', I knew the agency was bogus, a front for the Department of Defense, but I didn't care. I was running out of time and I still had so many unanswered questions."

The Hunter returns and hands Ravenwolf a fresh bottle. She takes a swig and makes a face.

"I was a damned fool," she says. "For awhile though, it was almost heaven. Rowlands and his associate, John Murphy, became my students and my colleagues. We made enormous progress in describing the incredibly complex biological machine that is the lycanthropy pathogen. But even then I knew. I _knew _that Rowlands was even more obsessed with this than I was. I really shouldn't have been surprised when Rowlands did the most insane thing."

"What was that?" Ginger asks.

"He infected himself with the pathogen," Ravenwolf replies.

"On _**purpose**_?" Ginger says, half standing up. "That _**is**_ insane."

Brigitte turns and looks at Ginger, her expression very hurt. Ravenwolf looks at Brigitte and raises an eyebrow, and Ginger turns to look at her sister and sees her expression.

"Oh _God_," Ginger says. "I'm _sorry,_ B. I wasn't thinking. Your situation was different."

"You don't even know what Rowlands' situation _was_," Brigitte says.

"But you did it for someone else," Ginger says. "You did it to help _**me**_. I bet Rowlands' reason was more selfish."

Ravenwolf clears her throat, and the two sisters look at her.

"When I first met Wallace Rowlands, he was missing his left eye, his left arm, and most of the left side of his face," Ravenwolf says. "War wounds."

"Holy shit!" Brigitte says. "So he infected himself to cure himself."

"That's correct," Ravenwolf says. "When I found out that he did it, I quit, but Murph stayed on and gave him the treatment we devised. Three months later a new Wallace Rowlands emerged from the chrysalis with _two_ eyes, an intact face, and a fully functional left arm. He sees the lycanthropy pathogen as potential medical gold."

"Well, maybe it is," Ginger says. "Maybe lycanthropy is the medical breakthrough that will cure just about everything."

"Ginger," Ravenwolf says. "Rowlands 'cure' turns most people into homicidal monsters before it ever turns them into werewolves. For every member of your 'pack', there were five other people who had to be put down because they became so vicious. Indeed, since his emergence from his chrysalis it is my understanding that Rowlands' _own_ conduct has been increasingly bizarre. For example, the little assassination missions he's been sending you on? Not authorized by _anyone _but himself, and apparently for 'experimental' and _personal_ purposes rather than national defense or law enforcement purposes."

Ginger's face turns white, and she looks ill. Tears start to form and run down her cheeks. She shakes her head and sobs.

"You were _right_, B," Ginger says. "We were nothing but Rowlands' pet monsters all along, and I'm _still_ nothing but a monster."

"No," Brigitte says. "You're still my sister. And you _want_ to get better. And that makes you better than _**him**_."

"Ginger…Brigitte," Ravenwolf says. "You may think you know Rowlands, but you don't. You have no idea what he is _**truly**_ capable of."

* * *

Doc Murphy is in bed when the light in his room suddenly goes on. He immediately sits up, squinting, while reaching for his glasses.

"Who?" he says.

"It's just me, John," Rowlands says. He is standing next to Murphy's bed. He then holds out Murphy's glasses.

"Looking for these?" Rowlands says.

Murphy takes the glasses and looks at Rowlands. Rowlands' ears are pointed and his eyes have changed color to a bright, inhuman blue.

"She's _taken_ them, John," Rowlands says.

"What?' Murphy asks, obviously confused.

"The Fitzgerald sisters, John," Rowlands says, an edge to his voice that we haven't heard him use with Murphy before. "Sara Ravenwolf has _taken_ them."

"Sara?" Murphy says. "Dr. Ravenwolf? But how? _**Why**_??"

"Oh, I _know_," Rowlands says. "She _thinks_ I don't know but I do. I know _all_ about the legend of 'the Red and the Black', John."

Rowlands shakes his head and chuckles. It is an angry chuckle.

"I was such a fool, John," he says. "Not to check deeper into Roskoff's background. If I had, I would have known about the Hunter."

"The _Hunter_?" Murphy asks, obviously now completely confused and more than a little afraid.

"Remember the little boy we often saw during our evening visits to Dr. Ravenwolf's cabin?" Rowlands asks.

"Sara's grandson?" Murphy says. "Yes, I remember. But what does he have to do with Roskoff?"

"'Sara's grandson' was Roskoff's most frequently hired freelance assassin," Rowlands says. "And I should have _known_ that. Roskoff's death was just a little _too_ professional. I haven't trained _any_ of the pack that well."

"You think he's _killed_ Ginger and Brigitte?" Murphy asks.

"No," Rowlands says. "I think that he took them to grandma's house, where little red riding wolf and her little sister are being convinced to fulfill their _**destiny**_."

The last word is spit out as if it is an obscenity.

"Go get James and the rest of the pack," Rowlands says. "Tell them to meet me in the conference room. It's time we went _hunting_."

Murphy starts to get up, and Rowlands shakes his head.

"Wait, never mind," he says. Then Rowlands turns and with one clawed hand slashes through Murphy's throat. Murphy falls against the bed, spraying blood. Our view changes to Murphy's face. His eyes are wide with shock, and he is trying to breath but we hear only a liquid gurgle. Then Rowlands' face, with its enlarged teeth, leans into our view so that his face is nose to nose with Murphy's.

"I think I'll just get them myself," Rowlands says. Then he shakes his head, and his voice turns icy. "You think I didn't _know_, John, about you and _Sara's _continued '_thing_'? Did you really think you could wash her stink off of you so that I wouldn't know?"

But it is apparent that Murphy is no longer listening. His eyes are looking someplace very far away.

* * *

"Are you OK now, Ginger?" Brigitte asks.

Ginger wipes her eyes.

"No," Ginger says. "But I can listen again."

Ravenwolf nods and stands up.

"_Good_," she says. She walks over to a trunk and opens it.

"I taught Rowlands and Murphy a lot about werewolf biology, and the biology of the lycanthropy pathogen," Ravenwolf says. "But there was just as much I _didn't_ tell them, mostly about werewolf history, and also about 'the Red and the Black'."

Ravenwolf takes a rolled up canvas out of the trunk.

"It took me a long time to find this," Ravenwolf says. "It was presumed lost."

She takes the canvas and unrolls it in front of Brigitte and Ginger. Ginger's eyes go wide.

"holy shit," she whispers. "What the fuck _is_ this?"

Our view now shifts so that we see the canvas. We see a painted family portrait, somewhat faded but still very recognizable. Standing is a man who looks very much like Henry Fitzgerald as seen in the original _**Ginger Snaps**_, except that he is clad in a bright red military uniform and is wearing a white powdered wig. His hand rests on the shoulder of a woman in formal period dress who looks like the twin of Pamela Fitzgerald. Seated demurely in front of them are two girls, also in formal period dress. They look like slightly younger versions of Ginger and Brigitte.

Ravenwolf points at the man.

"_That_ is Montgomery Fitzgerald," she says. "And this is his family; his wife Virginia Fitzgerald, and his two surviving children, Gingeranne and Brigitte Fitzgerald.

"The portrait was painted in 1813, one year before he departed, with his family in tow, on an expedition meant to be a British Canadian version of Lewis and Clark's trip for Thomas Jefferson a decade before."

"No fucking _way_," Ginger says.

"Oh, yes," Ravenwolf says. "_**Way**_. You are looking at the _**original**_ 'Red and the Black'. The original Fitzgerald sisters to meet up with, and be changed by, werewolves.

"And _that's_ just the beginning."

**End Act 3**


	5. Act 4

**Note: Act 3 ran about twice as long as I originally planned. Therefore, I will probably have to add another act (an Act 6, for those of you who made it this far and are counting). Hopefully, though, I will be able to put this puppy to bed then, because it's the holidays, and I have real life things I need to be doing, and I also need to be getting to bed at more decent hours.**

**Further Disclaimers: For this chapter I also need to acknowledge the work of author Whitley ****Strieber**** for his creation of the Wolfen, as interpreted by Michael Wadleigh channeled through Barry Lopez. I recommend both the novel **_**Wolfen**_** and the movie by the same name. Both are probably hard to find, but IMO are worth the effort. I also recommend Lopez's book, **_**Of Wolves and Men**_**, which I believe was as much a source for the movie as Strieber's novel. **

**The other stuff, implying "hidden nations" of creatures, is mine. **_**All mine, bwahahahaha!**_

**I greatly appreciate the continued reviews. I know these acts take a while to slog through, and I appreciate the effort. **

**Act 4**

James, Danielle, and Claude are sitting around the table in the same conference room that we saw them in before. Claude has his head down on the table, resting on his arms. James is leaning back in his chair, feet on the table. Danielle is sitting up in her chair, looking between the other two.

"So what do you _really_ think this is about?" Danielle asks.

James looks at her with a raised eyebrow.

"So what are you saying?" he says. "Are you saying that I _really _didn't answer the question the last four times you asked it?"

"You said: 'Hell if I know', 'How should I know', 'Something to do with the Fitzgerald sisters, I guess', and 'Keep your panties on, we'll find out soon enough'," Danielle says. "None of those qualify as answers. Something's _**up**_. The Weird sisters have completed their mission, but they haven't come back. Now, Rowlands is calling a pack meeting in the middle of the night."

James looks at Claude and raises an eyebrow.

"Ooh, something's _up_," James says. "We have a keen _detective_ in our midst."

Claude raises his head and grins devilishly at Danielle.

"May I just say that I strongly disagree with James' suggestion?" he says. "I for one have no problem with you _not_ keeping your panties on."

Danielle shakes her head, stands up, and starts to walk around the room. She looks nervously at James.

"You _talked_ with Rowlands," Danielle says to James. "You _know_ something."

James shrugs.

"I don't know why he called this meeting," he says.

"But you know _something_," Danielle says.

"Yeah, I suppose," James says. He looks at Claude and grins. "So what do you think, should I _share_?"

Claude shrugs, then puts his head back down on the table.

"I take that as a no," James says. Then he stops smiling and looks at Danielle. "I strongly suggest you relax and sit down. Something _is_ up, and Rowlands is in a state, but you being nervous about it will just piss him off. The best thing to do is sit the fuck down and wait for Rowlands to come and _tell_ us what's '_up_'."

Danielle sits down, but her expression is even more nervous.

"_Why_ does he even care about _them_?" she says, almost wailing. "_I_ was here first, and they're just a couple of little girls."

James snorts.

"You've been a wolf for five years and you _**still**_ don't get it," he says. "You still think like a piece of human meat. You may have been a big time model and stripper in your previous life, with men falling all over you, but what attracts human meat doesn't attract male werewolves. _**Strength**_ is what attracts us. Ginger has it, you don't. Hell, I even get the feeling that her dweeb sister has more strength than you, but she's such a fucktard she can't pull her head out of her ass long enough to use it. That's why Claude's the only one who will fuck you."

"_You_ used to," Danielle says.

"Yeah, until Ginger kicked your ass the second week after coming out of her chrysalis," James says. "Hell, she did it the day after she was able to _stand_. And you _knew_ she would, the way you kept trying to bully her when she was still in a wheelchair. She smelled your fear. We all did.

"And among self respecting wolves, fear is a turnoff."

"Speak for yourself," says Claude.

"I _said_ 'self respecting'," James says without anger, turning to look at Claude. "You try to pretend you're the man you were before you were bitten. A professor in a small private college with a thing for spoiled little brat co-eds. Never mind the fact that six months ago in Afghanistan I saw you tear the throats out of two Saudi insurgents with your teeth. You're _not_ the French literature instructor any more. When you finally accept what you really are, you will also finally realize just how worthless _she _is." James points at Danielle as he says this.

Then James shakes his head, smiling slightly at the memory.

"I wish Rowlands would send the three of us back to Afghanistan again," he says, his voice far away and dreamlike. "Seeing Ginger howling in the moonlight, that guy's head in her right hand…_good_ times. I'd even _share_ her with you again."

Claude shrugs.

"It wasn't bad," he says. "But I'd still rather make love than war."

"Why settle for one over the other?" James says. "We're built for both."

"So am I," says Danielle.

"Maybe," James says. "But you don't smell like you believe it. Claude, for all of his stupid pretending, smells like he _knows_."

"So what do _you_ think is up with Rowlands, James?" Claude asks.

James shrugs.

"I don't know," James says. "Just before Ginger killed Roskoff, or at least firebombed his penthouse, Rowlands got this picture through his cell phone. It looked like it was a picture of Ginger and Brigitte shot through the head."

"What?" Claude says. "Ginger and Brigitte are _dead_?"

"No," Danielle says, looking daggers at James. "They were just playing their old sick little game, weren't they?"

"Sick little game?" Claude asks.

"Staging death scenes and photographing each other in them," Danielle says. "They've talked about it right in front of you, Claude, don't you remember?"

"Must've tuned it out." Claude says. "That's crazy, though, messing with Rowlands' mind like that."

"Yeah," James chuckles. "But they sure yanked his chain though. I figured that Ginger would come right back and yell surprise. Rowlands would have forgiven her, like he always does. But it's night now and…_dammit_! Where the fuck _is_ she?"

At that moment, Rowlands opens the door. His ears are no longer pointed, his fingernails are no longer claw like, and his teeth look normal.

"Good, good," Rowlands says. "I'm glad to see you all here. We have a crisis on our hands."

"What?" James says. "Did someone kill Ginger and the fucktard after they killed Roskoff?"

"_They_ didn't kill Roskoff," James says. "That was someone else. Someone who convinced Ginger and Brigitte to go with him."

"Go with him?" James says. "Who's him?"

"Roskoff's favorite freelance killer," Rowlands says. "A man who calls himself 'the Hunter'. I suspect he killed his former employer as part of a deal he made with the Fitzgerald sisters. A deal to go with him."

"Go where?" Claude asks.

"Ginger and Brigitte have defected," Rowlands says.

"_Defected_?" says James. "To _where_? Is some _other_ country offering them the treatment?"

Rowlands shakes his head.

"No other country _has_ the treatment," Rowlands says. "Even in this country, no one else has the treatment except us."

"Someone could have lied to them," Claude says. "Convinced them they had it."

"Perhaps," Rowlands says. "The important thing is, I _know_ who has them. Pack your weapons and some extras of your work clothing, just in case this trip takes more than one day. I want you at the front door in thirty minutes.

"We're going to get them back."

* * *

"Jesus, B, look at them. They're _**us**_!"

Brigitte looks up from the picture at Ravenwolf.

"So what the fuck is happening here?" Brigitte asks. "Were we reincarnated?"

Ravenwolf shakes her head.

"I don't know," say Ravenwolf. "As best as I can figure, history doesn't necessarily repeat itself, but it does like to recycle certain themes, usually with variations. For example, although Montgomery Fitzgerald looked like your father, my understanding is that your father is a kind and gentle man…"

"He's a fucking milquetoast," Ginger mutters under her breath.

"…while by all accounts, Montgomery Fitzgerald was a violent and cruel man."

"How do you know about our father?" Brigitte says.

"Oh, I know quite a bit about you," Ravenwolf says. "Do you think it's a _coincidence_ that I met you at that flea market? I first saw the two of you in that flea market when I was in a trance next to my mother's campfire. That was before your _parents_ were born. Then I had that same vision in a dream less than a week after quitting Rowlands' project. I can't tell you how, but I knew where and when to go, and there you were. After that, I started to research you."

"Wait a minute," Ginger says. "You _knew_ I was going to be bitten? You _knew_ we were going to be fucking werewolves, and you didn't_ tell_ us?"

Ginger turns and looks at Brigitte.

"I _don't_ like her anymore, B," she says. Then she growls and turns and stares at Ravenwolf, who doesn't flinch at all.

"Ginger," Brigitte says quietly, her hooded eyes looking back and forth. "Back down, now."

"_Why_?" Ginger says.

"Because you're forgetting someone else is in the room," Brigitte says.

Ginger turns and looks at the Hunter, who has his gun out, and pointed towards the floor, but obviously at the ready.

"Oh yeah," Ginger says as she breaks eye contact with Ravenwolf.

"Ginger," Ravenwolf says. "What would you have said if I had warned you about being bitten by a werewolf?"

"I'd have laughed at you," Ginger says. "But that's not the point. You could have sent the Hunter to guard us."

"_When_, Ginger?" Ravenwolf says. "I had no idea _when_ you were going to be bitten. And besides, if I had_ that_ kind of control over my grandson, he would never have done any work for Roskoff."

"But you _knew_ it was going to happen," Ginger says. "You should have done something to stop it."

"Some things are _destiny_, Ginger," Ravenwolf says. "Future history. I couldn't stop this. No one could. All I could do was wait for it to happen."

Ravenwolf takes a final swig of her second beer.

"Do you know that the attacks in and around Bailey Downs have not stopped since you two left?" Ravenwolf says. "There have been other 'Beasts of Bailey Downs'. So far, Rowlands and his superiors have been able to keep a lid on things, but eventually they are going to miss somebody. In this world of highways and planes, it's only a matter of time until lycanthropy starts to appear elsewhere. When that happens, an epidemic will start and an interspecies war will begin again. It's only a matter of time unless someone does something. The only someones who _can_ are the two of you.

"As it was before in 1815 in Fort Bailey, so it is now. The Fitzgerald sisters, the Red and the Black, hold the key to ending the curse."

"End the curse, _how_?" Ginger asks.

"Before you answer that question," Brigitte says. "Answer mine. What _is_ the curse?"

"Geez, B," Ginger says. "It's pretty damn obvious, don't ya think?"

"No," Brigitte says. "No, it's really not."

"She's right, Ginger," Ravenwolf says. "It's really not."

* * *

Ginger, Brigitte, Ravenwolf, and the Hunter have all moved into another room. This room is much cleaner. It looks like a combined bed room and sitting room. Ravenwolf is wearing a coat and is putting a log on a roaring fire in the fireplace.

"_There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy_," Ravenwolf says, turning to face the other three.

"What?" says Ginger.

"Shakespeare, right?" Brigitte says.

"Specifically Hamlet," Ravenwolf says. "Are you two familiar with the concept of convergent evolution?"

Ginger and Brigitte look at one another.

"No," says Brigitte.

"Convergent evolution is when two divergent lines of organisms independently evolve similar traits," Ravenwolf says. "Like the wings of birds and bats."

"OK, I've learned something new," Brigitte says. "And this has _what_ to do with a curse??"

"Many human beings assume that we are the only species to evolve self awareness," Ravenwolf says. "We're not. The chattering of crows and ravens? They really _are_ talking to one another. Directly to the west of us, there are giant bipedal apes that, even though they superficially resemble human beings, are actually closer related to orangutans. "

"You mean Big Foot?" Ginger says.

"Yes, 'Big Foot'," Ravenwolf says. "Or _Gigantopithecus magus. _Both Ottawa and Washington play host to Gigantopithicine ambassadors and advisors. They're probably the most intelligent species on the planet."

"Still wondering what this has to do with a curse," Brigitte says.

"The point is, several species have _independently_ evolved intelligence," Ravenwolf says, sitting down in a chair opposite of Brigitte and Ginger and putting her feet up by the fireplace. "Among them, there is a species of wolf, forgotten by most humans except in legend. A _giant _wolf, perhaps half again as large as the timber wolf, that lives for 50 to 70 years instead of 10 years, that reaches sexual maturity at 10 years instead of 1 year, that has 1 or 2 cubs per litter instead of 5 to 10. Here in North America, the native peoples and the wolfen co-existed in peace. In Europe, on the other hand, the wolfen were the 'big bad wolves', and a state of war existed between their kind and humanity. It was a war of annihilation, and it was a war that the humans eventually, or at least apparently, won. But it was a hard fought war."

"OK, this is sounding a little better," Brigitte says.

"The wolfen were often believed throughout the Middle Ages to be 'werewolves', Ravenwolf says. "So far as I can tell, _that_ was a myth. But eventually, as humans got the upper hand on wolfen, the surviving wolfen made a deal with...my people call them 'spirits', I have no idea what they really were, and the lycanthropy pathogen was created."

Ravenwolf chuckles.

"Ironically, the _legend_ of werewolves actually _predates_ the emergence of _actual_ werewolves," she says. "It really is the perfect revenge for a species losing a genocidal war. Create an infection that turns the enemy _into_ you. It's _brilliant_ in fact."

"And how do you know this is what happened?" Brigitte says.

"The wolfen told the ravens, and the ravens told my mother, and my mother told me," Ravenwolf says. "And history supports what my mother was told. The final battle in Europe between human and wolfen occurred in the French city of Gevauden, right after the French Indian War. Two wolfen, possibly a mated pair, were killing and eating the citizens of that city. Some veterans, just returned from the French Indian War, went after the wolves, and failed to capture them. Some of them were killed in the attempt, others were bitten by the pair, who may themselves have been transformed werewolves. Back then, the monkshood treatment was well known. The monkshood delayed the transformation long enough for the infected soldiers to cross the Atlantic, and make it to the forests around and in what is now Bailey Downs. They considered the land uninhabited, you see. A place where they could safely become monsters without harming anyone. Of course, what they actually did was succeed in spreading the infection to _my_ people. My people saw the lycanthropy infection the same way the infected French soldiers did. They saw it as a curse. And one day, after a werewolf attacked and killed _her_ sister, a young girl had a vision of deliverance or damnation, coming in the form of two white sisters, the Red and the Black."

"So that girl, she was _your_ previous incarnation?" Ginger asks.

"I suppose so," Ravenwolf says. "I prefer the word 'version' myself."

"The vision, it was a prophecy?" Brigitte asks.

"That's as good a word as any," Ravenwolf says. "The prophecy was this, the Red and the Black would either end the curse, or make it stronger. 'To end the curse, the sisters had to kill the boy. If the sisters failed to kill the boy, one sister would kill the other. If the Black killed the Red, the curse would be ended. If the Red killed the Black, the curse would become stronger'."

Brigitte and Ginger look at one another.

"Depressing," Brigitte says.

"Yeah," Ginger says. "But didn't we used to _like_ depressing?"

"Montgomery Fitzgerald departed Ottawa in April of 1815," Ravenwolf says. "The last dispatch his sponsors got from him was dated September 30, 1815. Sometime in late October of that same year, the Fitzgerald sisters, claiming to be orphaned by a rafting accident, appeared at Fort Bailey, under the command of a _**Mr.**_ _Wallace Rowlands_."

"_**What**_?" Ginger says. "_You have_ _**got**_ _to be fucking_ _**kidding me**_!"

"Now you know how _I_ felt when you said your names were actually Ginger and Brigitte," the Hunter says.

Ginger looks at Brigitte.

"I forgot he could talk," she says.

"So when _Captain_ Wallace Rowlands came to you," Brigitte says. "You immediately recognized the name."

"Very good, Brigitte," Ravenwolf says. "It wasn't _just_ the opportunity to do adequately funded research that interested me in his offer. I wanted to stay close to him. I figured your paths would cross his eventually."

"So what happened after the sisters reached the fort?" Brigitte asks.

"Well, I think before they reached the fort, the sisters encountered the previous version of me, who told them the prophecy," Ravenwolf says. "At the fort, they found a small, ragtag group of men under siege by werewolves. The werewolves turned out to be the other men from the fort, who had left months ago to get supplies."

Ravenwolf looks into the fire, as if pondering what to say next.

"It's hard to know exactly what happened there," Ravenwolf says. "Fort Bailey burned to the ground, and every man there was killed. Fragments of the earlier Rowlands' journals were recovered by my ancestors, who at the time couldn't read them. The fragments do confirm that Gingeranne and Brigitte Fitzgerald, the daughters of Montgomery Fitzgerald, arrived at the fort. Some of my later ancestors believed they had visions of the final hours at Fort Bailey. It's hard to know, however, whether what they saw was really what happened."

"So what do _**you**_ think happened?" Brigitte asks.

"From what I can tell," Ravenwolf says. "The sisters failed to kill the boy, who was Rowlands' son, before he bit Gingeranne. In the final attack on the fort, all of its defenders and the attacking werewolves were killed, leaving the two sisters as the only two survivors."

"So the Red killed the Black?" Ginger asks in a horrified voice.

"No, I don't think so," Ravenwolf says. "The Red refused to kill the Black, and the Black refused to kill the Red. As it turns out, there was a third way around the curse."

"And that was?" Brigitte asks.

"Just to _stay_ with one another," Ravenwolf says. "Just to _love_ one another. My predecessor may have been a wise woman, but she was no biologist. She didn't know about the final transformation phase of the infection."

"I don't understand," Brigitte says.

"There is _always_ a third way to end a curse," Ravenwolf says. "And that is to _accept _it. A curse must first and foremost be an unwelcome imposition. When a curse is welcomed, it becomes something other than a curse."

"So…what's the prophecy you saw about _us_?" Ginger asks.

"Pretty much the same thing," Ravenwolf says. "You obviously failed to 'kill the boy'."

"We don't _know_ that the werewolf who attacked me _was_ a boy," Ginger says.

"Yeah we do," Brigitte says. "Sam saw his circumcised penis."

"He had a circumcised _dick_?" Ginger says. "_**Wicked**_."

"You both have also already tried to kill one another, and failed, even if Brigitte came close," Ravenwolf says.

"But because of the treatment, we haven't exactly 'accepted the curse' either," says Brigitte. "So that leaves us in a kind of limbo, huh?"

Ginger turns to Brigitte.

"You _said_," Ginger says. "You _said_ that you wouldn't go back to Rowlands and the pack. You _said_ that you would rather go deep into the forest and become a wolf and live free. You were right all along, B."

Brigitte looks at Ravenwolf.

"One last question," she says. "Assuming you're right, and maybe after sharing blood the sisters simply stayed together. Why would that have ended, or at least tabled, the curse?"

Ravenwolf looks briefly at Brigitte, but then looks longer at Ginger.

"It seems that fully transformed wolves are no more inclined to kill and eat humans than their non-ex-human kin, either wolfen or timber wolf," Ravenwolf says. "And after the fire at Fort Bailey, there were no humans around for werewolves in chrysalis to attack."

No one says anything. The fire crackles. Silent tears start to roll down Ginger's face. Brigitte takes Ginger's hand without a word.

"Did you hear that, B?" Ginger finally says, her voice soft. "If I become a wolf, I won't be a monster any more."

"Is that what you want, Ginger?" Brigitte asks, her voice equally quiet.

"More than anything, B," Ginger whispers.

"Me too," Brigitte says.

* * *

The Hunter is loading a cooler in the back of the red Escape. Ravenwolf is standing next to him. It is cold, and both their breaths are misting.

"Move quickly," Ravenwolf says. "They haven't had a dose of Rowlands' treatment for two days. Right now, the progression of the infection is stalled, but that won't last much longer. When the progression starts back up, it will move at an accelerated rate. They need to be deep in the woods north of Bailey Downs before the transformation starts up again, particularly Ginger."

"You sure you won't come with us?" the Hunter asks. "We have room."

"Not a good idea," Ravenwolf says. "I'll slow you down. You'll need to travel almost non-stop, and I'm just not up to it anymore. Fortunately, if you keep traveling, you should be able to stay under the radar. Since Rowlands now believes that the Fitzgerald sisters are dead, he won't be looking for them."

Ravenwolf helps her grandson to close the back hatch to the Escape.

"Are the Fitzgerald sisters still asleep?" she asks.

"Last I checked," the Hunter says.

"Good, because I have one last thing to say to you," Ravenwolf says. "Be very careful with Brigitte Fitzgerald."

"Why?" the Hunter says. "I thought Ginger was the bigger threat."

"I'm not talking about threats," Ravenwolf says. "But I see the way you look at her."

"What are you talking about?" the Hunter says. "You think I have a _crush_ on Brigitte Fitzgerald?"

"I think it may go deeper than that," Ravenwolf says. "There were…hints…of something between the 1815 Brigitte and the 1815 version of you."

The Hunter shrugs.

"You mean they got it on?" the Hunter asks.

"He _protected_ her," Ravenwolf says. "Ostensibly so that she would do her duty and kill her sister, but I think the protective urge ran deeper."

"Well that was then," the Hunter says. "This is now. There's not much percentage in starting up something with someone who is going to transform into a member of a different species. I might as well start something with the family dog."

"We have a family dog?" Ravenwolf says.

"The killing business doesn't lend itself much to having attachments," the Hunter says.

"I noticed," Ravenwolf says. "I don't approve of what you do or what you have become, but you _have_ come through now…and…I want you to be _careful_. I don't want it to be another four years before I see my grandson again."

"It won't be," the Hunter says, stepping forward to give her a hug.

"Just remember to be careful with Brigitte," Ravenwolf says. "Don't _ever_ ask her to choose between you or her sister, or even between her sister and what you think is right or sensible. Those two have emotional ties far tighter than you would ever guess."

* * *

It's now dawn, and the red Escape is rolling down the dirt and gravel driveway. Standing by the cabin, Ravenwolf waves goodbye. Then she turns and walks in. Our view shifts to her living room. She goes to one of her trunks and opens it, pulling out a double barrel shotgun. She pulls out two shells and loads them into the gun, then pulls out four more and drops them in her coat pocket. The she goes and sits in a rocking chair, the only seat in the room not covered with journals. She starts to rock slightly and looks at her reflection in the window.

"Well life," she says. "It's been nice knowing you."

* * *

Ginger turns and looks over her shoulder. We see through the rear window the cabin, and in front of it Ravenwolf is waving goodbye. Ginger waves back, then turns and faces the front even as the Escape turns a corner and the cabin and Ravenwolf vanish from sight.

"Why isn't she coming with us?" Ginger asks the Hunter.

"I thought you didn't like her anymore," the Hunter says.

"Well, I think I do like her again," Ginger says. "She's a talkative know-it-all (by the way I thought you guys were all supposed to be taciturn), but she's got attitude, and I _like_ attitude. Ask B."

The Hunter glances at Brigitte but before he can say anything, she says:

"Ginger _likes_ attitude."

The Hunter looks up at the rear view mirror.

"'You guys were _all_?'" he says.

"Huh?" Ginger says.

"You just stereotyped him and his grandmother," Brigitte says. "That's offensive. You should apologize to him."

"Yeah it _is _offensive, although not necessarily to me" the Hunter says. "Besides, you were just saying you like her, so that kind of takes the sting out of it."

"Sorry," says Ginger, who then turns to Brigitte. "Anybody else find it odd that a couple of killers are talking about being polite and politically correct?"

"Actually, politeness is _more _important between killers, because by definition the risks of being impolite to a killer can be final," the Hunter says.

The Hunter turns the steering wheel to the right, and we briefly shift our view to the Escape turning right on a paved road. Then our view shifts back to the interior of the vehicle. The Hunter's attention is now very much on the road in front of him. He starts to speak without turning around.

"You have to remember, though, that my grandmother has been waiting to talk to the two of you for 55 years. Over that time, she came up with a lot to say."

"So usually she's not such a blabbermouth?" Ginger says.

"Nope," the Hunter says. "Usually _I_ have to carry the conversation. She's usually more of a 'walk softly and carry a big stick' type."

* * *

The black van comes up Ravenwolf's driveway. It stops, and James gets out of the driver's side. Rowlands comes out the front passenger door.

James makes a face.

"I _smell_ them," James says. "Ginger and Brigitte were right_ here_, not much more than an hour or two ago."

Rowlands nods.

"There's someone _still_ here," he says. "She'll know where they went, although I already know where they are going."

Rowlands turns to Claude and Danielle as they exit the back of the van.

"Hearing and smell," he says. "What do they tell you?"

Danielle steps forward and sniffs the air, then cocks her head, canine fashion, and listens.

"One person is in there, human, female, and older," Danielle says. "She's alone."

Danielle licks her lips.

"Anything else?" Rowlands asks. "Claude?"

"Yeah, there's something else, I smell a g…Danielle, _wait_!" Claude says.

"I'll pull her ass out there for you, Colonel!" Danielle says right before she kicks the door open. The bolted lock is torn loose from the wooden frame, and the upper hinge is twisted by the impact. Danielle starts to walk through the now wide open door.

"You!" we hear Danielle's voice loudly say. "Come on out here before I-"

The human voice is replaced by a startled lupine growl, followed by the hollow boom of a shotgun. Danielle falls back out of the doorway flat on her back. Her head is a bloodied mess and her face is gone.

Claude's eyes go wide in startled horror. He growls and starts to move forward, but Rowlands right hand reaches out and restrains him at chest level. Claude looks at Rowlands and growls. Rowlands looks back at him mildly.

"James, what's the first lesson I taught you all about black ops?" Rowlands asks.

"Never assume that human meat with a gun isn't dangerous, even when it appears to be weak," James says.

"Using a shotgun much like the one she has now, the woman in there blew the head off of a werewolf in chrysalis when she was 19 years old," Rowlands says. "And over the years, there were others. _Danielle_ was not so impressive."

Claude turns and looks at Rowlands.

"You _knew_ this was going to happen!" Claude says, his voice expressing mingled disbelief and rage.

"I knew this would happen if Danielle failed to learn the lessons I taught and repeated to her many times," Rowlands says. "She has no one to blame but herself, and you have no one to blame but her. Natural selection has taken its course."

"If you are so OK with 'natural selection' taking its course, _why_ did you let _Ginger_ accompany and protect _Brigitte _after you gave her a solo mission?" Claude asks angrily. "Danielle may not have been brilliant, but she was a damned sight better at operations than little 'B'."

"He has a good point, Colonel," James says.

"Only if_ I_ acknowledge he does," Rowlands says. "There is only one alpha here, and in the end only the alpha decides what points are valid."

Claude growls and stares as if he is going to challenge Rowlands. Rowlands looks back at Claude as if he had just issued an intemperate complaint about the weather. Claude picks up on Rowlands self assurance and immediately backs down. Tears start to roll down his face, and he turns his head away.

"Jesus, Claude," James says. "You're _crying_ over her? It's not like she was worth it."

"Be quiet, James," Rowlands says. "Let the man grieve."

Suddenly, we hear Ravenwolf's voice call loudly from the cabin.

"Excuse me, Wallace," she says. "As a favor to an older woman who's hearing is no longer so good, could you bring your conversation inside so that we can _all _participate?"

"We don't want to end up like our friend did, Sara!" Rowlands calls back.

"Then come in nice and politely with your hands where I can see them, Wallace," Ravenwolf says. "Is John with you?"

"He couldn't make it," Rowlands says. James and Claude look at one another. James raises an eyebrow, and Claude shakes his head and wipes his eyes with his shirt sleeve.

"With Danielle gone, we _have_ to recover the Fitzgerald sisters," Claude whispers to James. "They're the _only_ females we have left."

"Well," says James. "Except for Rowlands' alpha."

Claude jerks his head towards the cabin.

"I don't think that's her in there," Claude says. "Unless Wallace intends to bite her. It better not be. I want to be the one to tear out her throat."

* * *

Ginger is asleep in the back seat, and the Hunter is still driving.

Brigitte is looking out the passenger window, as if debating whether to say something.

"I'm worried about your grandmother," Brigitte says. "If Rowlands decides to look for us…"

"He won't," the Hunter says. "I sent him the picture."

"The picture?" Brigitte says.

"The same picture I sent to Roskoff," the Hunter says. "The one of you two dead."

Ginger opens her eyes.

"_Jesus Christ_!" she says. "You think _Rowlands_ is going to be satisfied with a cell phone picture? We're _infected_. He's going to want the bodies."

"We think he's gong to be looking in the penthouse first," the Hunter says. "There will be charred human female remains in there."

"Who?" Brigitte asks.

"Angel Rivera, his maid," the Hunter says. "Roskoff tore her to pieces."

Brigitte closes her eyes.

"Shit," she says. "That's where the blood on the robe came from."

"That's not going to satisfy Rowlands," Ginger says. "It's not going to take him long to make the connection between you and your grandmother, especially since he _knows_ your grandmother. We have to turn back. We have to _**get her out of there!**_"

Silent tears start to come out of the Hunter's eyes, rolling down the cheeks on his otherwise stoic face.

"No," he says.

"_**No**_?" Ginger yells. "What the fuck do you mean _**no**_? Do you know what Rowlands will _**do**_ to her? _**We can't fucking leave her there!!**_ _**Turn the car the fuck around!! Now!**_"

"I made an oath, a blood oath," the Hunter says. "To see you both safely to your destinies."

"_**Fuck the fucking oath, Hunter, that's your grandmother back there!!!!**_" Ginger yells as she starts to try to climb over the seat.

Brigitte turns and puts her hand gently on Ginger's arm. Ginger looks at her sister, her eyes wide and frantic.

"Help me stop him, B!" she says. "We have to turn back!"

"Shhhhhh, Ginger," Brigitte says.

"What the_ fuck_, B?" Ginger says.

"I made the oath _to_ my grandmother," the Hunter says. "When I was 7 years old. When I called her and told her that I'd seen the two of you at the club, the first thing she did was remind me of it. Even if she was still alive when we got back and we saved her, she would never forgive me for breaking it."

"Have you lost your _**fucking mind**_?" Ginger says. "It's your _**grandmother**_! Turn the fucking car around. _**Let**_ her be pissed at you!"

"Ginger," Brigitte says to her sister, her tone practically a whisper. "They _knew_, they _both_ knew when they sent us on our way."

"B," Ginger says, her voice soft and miserable. "We're not worth her life. _I'm_ not worth her life."

"That's _her_ decision to make, not _yours_," the Hunter says.

"She _should_ have come with us," Ginger says.

"I agree with Ginger," Brigitte says. "Why did your grandmother stay back?"

The Hunter shakes his head, his voice still impassive, but his voice straining with emotion.

"We lied to each other," the Hunter said. "Each telling the other that Rowlands thought you two were dead, that he wouldn't come for you or us. We also lied to each other about why she stayed back. That she would slow us down. That she wasn't up to the trip. But that wasn't it. She wants one last conversation with Rowlands. She wants to take her shot at stopping him."

"_**That's fucking insane!**_" Ginger yells. "Rowlands was a professional killer _**before**_ he became a werewolf!"

"You would be surprised at what my grandmother can do," the Hunter says. "There was a lot about herself she didn't tell you. It's entirely possible Rowlands won't make it past her."

"You really believe that?" Brigitte asks.

"At this particular moment in time, I can still hope," the Hunter says.

Ginger sits back in her seat, her eyes haunted. Tears continue to come down her face. They are also falling silently down the cheeks of both Brigitte and the Hunter.

"son…of…a…fucking…bitch," Ginger whispers hollowly.

Our view switches to the red Escape as it glides quietly along the road. Then we fade to black.

* * *

Rowlands, James, and Claude enter into the cabin single file.

"Stay together," Rowlands says. "With that shotgun, she's guaranteed to get at least two of us before we can separate, and she's also very good with the revolver on her lap. Whichever one of us survives _might_ be able to get her before she gets the gun up, but success is not guaranteed."

Ravenwolf holds the shotgun to her shoulder, keeping all three men in her sights.

"You flatter me, Wallace," Ravenwolf says.

"I simply speak the truth, Sara," Rowlands says.

"You care to tell us why you are on a first name basis with this woman, Wallace?" James asks.

"This is Dr. Sara Ravenwolf," Rowlands says. "She was the first biologist to study the lycanthropy pathogen. Dr. Murphy and I were her students. She's a brilliant scientist. Unfortunately, she is also a superstitious fucking savage."

"I prefer to think of myself as a complete, well rounded person," Ravenwolf says.

Rowlands nods slightly.

"Sara," he says. "I would like to introduce you to my pack. James Munroe, Claude de Perac, and…"

Rowlands carefully extends his right arm towards the doorway and Danielle's body, lying half in and half out.

"…the late Danielle Amour."

"Amour?" Ravenwolf says.

"Her old stage name," Rowlands says. "She legally changed it to her real name six months or so before she was bitten."

"Wallace," James says.

"I hear them," Rowlands says. "Sirens. Well played, Sara, I assume you called the police and said you had intruders?"

"About twenty minutes before you got here," Ravenwolf says. "It's pretty remote out here, I knew they would take awhile."

"It won't work, Sara," says Rowlands. "Four bodies clustered in and in front of the doorway? It will look like murder. Not to mention, how will you make sure that the coroner and his staff are not infected?"

"_Her_ staff, actually," Ravenwolf says. "They're good about observing universal precautions, which I remind you are an effective barrier against the pathogen, which won't long survive its hosts' deaths anyway."

"We'll get through this," Rowlands says mildly. "And I _will_ get my girls back. And I look forward to matching myself against your grandson. He will be a worthy opponent."

"Wallace, there's so much you don't know," Ravenwolf says. "You're fighting destiny."

"You mean the prophecy of the Red and the Black?" Rowlands says. "Already know all about it."

Ravenwolf raises her head slightly from the sights of her shotgun.

"How would you know about that?" Ravenwolf says, her tone surprised. "I never…"

"…told me?" Rowlands finishes. "Sure you did, several times in fact. Your room is such a fucking mess you've never noticed the bugs I've had put under each inn and coffee table. I work for the _government_, Sara. I have all sorts of resources, and even after your resignation you were too valuable to ignore. I've listened to every bit of your pillow talk with John Murphy. I allowed your relationship to keep going because it benefited me. Sometimes, when we were trying to improve the treatment and we hit a roadblock, John would leave and come back with a solution, a solution he got from you. Nevertheless, John's relationship with you was _always _a betrayal, a betrayal he has already paid the full price for."

Ravenwolf raises her head a little more from the sights of her shotgun.

"Murph?" she says, as our view switches to face on with James and Claude. Rowlands is no longer in the picture. There is a deep growl, and the second boom of the shotgun. Blood splashes on the clothes and faces of James and Claude. James' protrudes his tongue to lick some of the blood off of his cheek.

Our view pans back so that we see Rowlands, and the back of Ravenwolf in her chair. Rowlands is holding the smoking shotgun by the barrel in his right, fur covered, black clawed hand. His eyes are bright blue again, his ears are pointed, and his teeth are enlarged. His face and front are splashed with blood, and his left hand drips with it. He absently brings his left hand, also fur covered and clawed, to his mouth to lick it.

"_I_ wanted to do that," Claude says.

"You were too slow," Rowlands says. "Get over it."

Rowlands looks down at Ravenwolf's corpse, his expression thoughtful and perhaps a little sad.

"Besides," he continues. "I owed it to her to be the one to do this."

"But now what?" James says. "You said she knew where Ginger and the fucktard are going."

"Yes," Rowlands says. "But so do I. There's only one place they _can_ be going."

"Where's that?" asks Claude.

"Bailey Downs," Rowlands says. "The sisters are going _home_."

**End Act 4**


	6. Act 5

**Act 5**

We are looking at Ravenwolf's front yard. The cabin is a smoking ruin, and we see the flashes of lights from police cars and fire trucks. Various people in uniform, including RCMP's, local constables, and firefighters, are milling about. One of the Mounties, a tall Canadian Aboriginal woman with her long dark hair in a ponytail, walks away from the crowd. As she does so, another Mountie says to her:

"Sorry about your aunt, ma'am."

The woman nods.

"Thank you," she says. "I didn't know her very well."

The woman walks into the woods, takes off her hat, and starts to weep. The weeping is brief, however, over almost as soon as it starts. She takes a cell phone out of her coat pocket and punches in a number.

* * *

We are now at a gas station. Ginger is pumping gas while Brigitte and the Hunter walk out of the station with two sacks of fast food groceries. The Hunter's cell phone rings to the tone of _Cherokee Nation_. He hands his sack to Brigitte and answers the phone.

"Hello?" he says. "Yeah, it's me. Uh huh. Uh huh. How many others? Just the one? Female? No, I'm _not_ _disappointed_ in her for Chrissakes! Yeah, keep me posted. Yeah, I'm sorry too. You be _careful_ with this. Did she warn you about the people involved in this? What kind of influence they have? Good. Watch your back. Goodbye."

During the conversation. Ginger finishes pumping gas and comes up and joins them.

"I…I didn't hear that, B," Ginger says. "Those damn overhead fluorescent lights."

"She's gone," Brigitte says. "Apparently she took Danielle with her."

Ginger's head goes down for a second. The expression on Ginger's face when it comes up again is one of sheer rage.

"We _should_ have gone back for her, B," she says.

"I know, Ginger," Brigitte says. "But we're doing what she wanted us to do."

"Rowlands will be on his way," the Hunter says. "We need to get going."

"Fine," Ginger says. "Let's fucking go then."

As the Hunter takes his sack back from Brigitte, Ginger slaps it out of his hands onto the parking lot.

"_That_ was uncalled for," the Hunter says.

"I'm not fucking hungry," Ginger says.

"I'm _really_ sorry about your grandmother," Brigitte says to the Hunter, gently touching his upper arm with her hand. "And I'm sorry my sister's treating you like that. She doesn't understand. To be honest, I don't either. But I know you were doing what she wanted you to do, what you told her you'd do. You and she understood, and that's what's important."

The Hunter shakes his head as he finishes picking up the scattered items and putting them into the sack.

"No," he says. "I just pretended I understood."

He starts towards the Escape.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," he says.

* * *

We are now in the interior of a small motel room. Ginger is sitting on the bed, staring into space, wearing a t-shirt and panties. We hear a toilet flush and Brigitte, also wearing a t-shirt and panties, emerges from the bathroom. She takes a hairbrush out of a convenience store sack and starts to brush her hair.

"I don't fucking get this, B," Ginger says.

"You having second thoughts, Ginger?" Brigitte asks.

"About us running off to the woods and turning into wolves together?" Ginger asks back. "No. I'm completely on board with that. It's Ravenwolf. Why did she stay back? She _wanted_ to stay back. She wanted to sacrifice herself. For us! Why?"

"It wasn't for _us_, Ginger," Brigitte says. "It was about the curse."

"But what the fuck _is_ the curse, B?" Ginger asks. "I thought I knew, but now I'm not sure anymore."

"It's what you thought it was, Ginger," Brigitte says. "People turning into monsters and killing other people, and infecting other people so that they turn into monsters."

"But she said it wasn't a curse once we accepted it," Ginger says.

"Not to _us_, maybe, because we've decided we _want_ to be wolves," Brigitte says. "It's our way out of monsterhood. Our way to be free. But most infected people are _not_ OK with turning into wolves. Rowlands isn't. The rest of the pack isn't. They don't accept it, so to them it's a curse. The only way to stop the curse is for us to go into the forest and not bite humans."

"There's a problem with that scenario though, B," Ginger says. "Rowlands and at least two other werewolves are still out there, capable of spreading the infection."

"Yes," Brigitte says. "Fortunately, they're following us. When they catch up to us, we'll give them a choice. They follow us into the woods, _become_ with us, or we kill them."

"Rowlands won't follow us," Ginger says. "James won't either. Claude might, but I doubt it."

"I know," Brigitte says. "That's why we're going to kill them."

Ginger stares at Brigitte, obviously taken aback by her matter of fact tone.

"_Damn_, B," Ginger says. "That was cold blooded. Kinda optimistic too."

Brigitte puts the hairbrush down on the dresser and gets into bed next to Ginger.

"Just the hard cold facts, Ginger," Brigitte says. "Ravenwolf wanted to spare us from having to face them. She tried to kill them for us. She failed. So it's on us now and we _can't_ fail. Rowlands won't ever give up on trying to capture us and bring us back, or failing that, to kill us. So in order for us to go into the woods and _become_, we are first going to _have_ to put an end to him. And when we go into the woods, there can't be anyone else left to spread the curse."

"Farewell to the pack, then," Ginger says.

Brigitte takes Ginger's hand.

"We'll form our _own_ pack, Ginger," she says. "You and I will make our own _real_, honest to_ God_, wolf pack."

* * *

We watch Brigitte in bed, tossing and turning. We hear the sounds of other people in their rooms in the motel. We hear beds creaking under people having sex, moans and "oh baby's", people going to the bathroom, TV's playing late night sports talk shows, infomercials, and pornography, and we hear some man asking a woman "how much and did she take checks" and her derisive laugh in response.

Finally, Brigitte takes the pillow and puts it over her head.

"Something wrong?" asks Ginger sleepily.

"Can't you hear it, all around us?" Brigitte says. "Fucking 'no-tell motel' my ass!"

Brigitte gets out of bed and starts to slip on her jeans and sweat shirt.

"What are you doing now?" Ginger asks.

"Going out for a walk," Brigitte says.

"Bad idea, B," Ginger says. "We gotta keep a low profile. Rowlands and the others may be watching us downwind."

"I can't _stand_ it in here," Brigitte says. "I wasn't going to go anywhere off grounds."

"Rowlands will have tranq guns with infrared scopes on them, not that_ he'd_ even need the infrared," Ginger says. "All three of them would be capable of making the shot. And if they get one of us, they get both of us."

"Together forever," Brigitte mutters.

"Yeah," Ginger says. "That attitude can kinda be a liability when one of us is a hostage."

Brigitte puts her forehead on the door.

"I don't know what's _wrong_ with me, Ginger," Brigitte says. "This place is just driving me fucking nuts."

"That's because you haven't had to sleep out of the compound more than what, two or three times when we were out on missions?" Ginger says. "Rowlands mostly sent you out on day trips. A place like this has a lot more activity than you are used to, particularly with wolf hearing."

Brigitte turns and looks at Ginger.

"That may be part of it, but that's not all of it," Brigitte says.

"Oh, do tell, B," Ginger says, sitting up in her bed and pulling the covers over her drawn up legs.

"I think…I think it's hearing all of this human activity around us and…" Brigitte's voice trails off.

"And you're gonna die a virgin?" Ginger finishes.

"_**What**_?" Brigitte says.

"I just mean, you're starting to realize that you are really getting ready to say goodbye to your humanity, and it's starting to hit you that there's a lot of things that you're not going to get to do," Ginger says. "It may not be dying, exactly, but it's close."

"Are you thinking about that too?" Brigitte asks.

"Yeah, some," Ginger says. "But at least I'm not a virgin."

"It's not just sex, Ginger," Brigitte says. "It's other things, even some things that I have done before that I won't get to do again. Like decorating the Christmas tree."

"Decorating the _Christmas tree_?" Ginger says, almost sputtering. "You would bitch and moan and carry on about what a hollow farce it was every time Pamela tried to get us to decorate the tree."

"So would you," Brigitte says.

"Well, yeah, it's _lame_…" Ginger's voice trails off. "But _you_ really _didn't_ think it was lame, did you?"

"I thought I was supposed to _think_ it was lame," Brigitte says. "And so I _tried_ to think it was lame."

"Because _I_ did…?" Ginger says. "But you were always so cynical about stuff."

"Well, yeah, "Brigitte says. "I was always an outcast, particularly when they bumped me up a grade. And you made being an outcast look so cool, so I tried to embrace it. I mean, there _was_ some hero worship involved."

"Of _**me**_?" Ginger asks.

"_Yeah_, of you," Brigitte asks. "Who else was there?"

"Wow," Ginger says. "Cool."

Then Ginger's face turns serious.

"Then I get bitten by a werewolf and go through delayed puberty at the same time," Ginger says. "That's a sure fire formula for turning into a Royal Bitch. Worse, I was maybe even becoming _popular_ for a while there in a slutty, homicidal sort of way. No more being outcasts together.

"I really betrayed you, didn't I? I'm so sorry, Brigitte."

"I know, Ginger," Brigitte says.

"You don't know how sorry," Ginger says.

"I don't _need_ to know how sorry, Ginger," Brigitte says. "Change the fucking subject."

"So you're gonna miss the Christmas trees huh?" Ginger says.

"That and the sex," Brigitte says. "What do you think of the Hunter?"

"Oh he definitely looks doable," Ginger says. "But c'mon, B, hot or not he's nothing but human. Claude was every bit as hot as he is and I could have kept Danielle off your back if you wanted me to. Hell, I would have let you take a tumble with _James_ if you asked. Before he decided he hated you anyway."

Brigitte turns and stands with her back to the door and leans against it.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "James was a bully and an asshole, and something about Claude has always given me the creeps."

"_Claude_?" Ginger says. "Claude liked you well enough, and outside of the missions, he's a sweetheart."

"No," says Brigitte. "No, he's _not_. There's something really _off_ about him, Ginger. There's a _**reason**_ why Danielle kept trying with James, even with _you_ around, and even when he showed almost as much contempt for her as he did for me."

* * *

Claude is shaving in front of a bathroom mirror, with a towel wrapped around his waist. The wetness of his hair and the misted edges of the mirror testify to his recent shower.

"I really appreciate you spending some time with me," Claude says over his shoulder. "It's tragic when you lose the love of your life. But you, you showed me that there's life after Danielle."

Claude finishes shaving and rinses his face off, then dries it off with a hand towel.

"Sorry to have to run," Claude says, tossing the towel on the counter. "But my boss has me on a schedule. You know how it is."

Claude comes out into a surprisingly elaborate motel room. On the bed is the naked body of a woman, her beautiful face unmarked, her golden hair arranged cloud like around her head. Her throat, however, has been torn out, and her body has been eviscerated. Claude walks over to the dresser and starts to pull out clothes, whistling as he does so.

Our view switches to the parking lot outside the motel room. James and Rowlands are standing outside, their breaths misting in the night air. Rowlands looks entirely human once more.

"You know, you really shouldn't indulge him in this shit," James says.

"I know," Rowlands says as Claude opens the door and comes out, fully clothed, his hair still damp. "But he's suffered a major loss, we all have."

James snorts.

"_I_ didn't," James says.

Rowlands continues as if he didn't hear James.

"I think Claude just needed a little more assistance in moving on," he says. "And I couldn't deny him that. Danielle could meet his needs on a regular basis. It's going to be quite awhile before we find someone else who can, or will."

"Maybe, if she doesn't get her stupid ass killed, 'B' could be trained to do it," James says as he watches Claude put on his watch.

James doesn't see the angry expression that briefly crosses Rowlands' face.

Three black vans identical to the one the pack uses pull into the parking lot, each disgorging several men dressed in black. One of the men, a short man with dark skin and curly black hair, approaches Rowlands and wordlessly waits for instruction.

"Clean up in aisle nine," he says, jerking his head to the motel room door. Our view pans over to the number 9 on the door.

* * *

"We shouldn't be doing this," Ginger says, as she looks nervously over her shoulder. They appear to be in the men's restroom in a gas station.

"I know," Brigitte says. "I know this is crazy. He's probably just going to turn me down anyway, walking creepy looking plague girl that I am."

Brigitte is putting coins into a condom machine.

"_This_ one?" she asks Ginger.

"Yeah," Ginger says. "You'll probably be safest with the double thick ribbed ones. I can't believe that after turning up your nose at your packmates, you finally decide that the right guy to take your virginity is a contract killer who worked for a sexual slave trader."

"Yeah," Brigitte says. "That _is_ pretty fucking weird, huh? Although there was one other guy, you know."

Ginger's face turns serious.

"Yeah, I know." Ginger says. "I'm really sorry, B."

"Ginger, I was a flat chested 15 year old dweeb who hadn't even had a period yet," Brigitte says. "Sam was way out of my league. Not that I really wanted to, not _then_ anyway."

There is a loud knocking at the door. A deep voice yells:

"_**Get a move on, dammit**_! _**You've been in there for 15 minutes**_!"

Our view switches to outside the restroom, which is also outdoors. A short, pudgy man wearing a winter vest over a black checked shirt and a Toronto Blue Jays cap is pounding on the door again while doing a little potty dance.

The restroom door opens, and Ginger briefly stops halfway through the door and leans against the door frame.

"OK," she says in a sultry voice. "We're done."

She then walks out the door. Brigitte follows with her head down, trying to stifle a laugh, and putting the condom in her pocket.

The man turns and watches them go, eyes very wide. Then he turns suddenly and starts to shake his leg.

"Aw, _**shit**_!" he says.

Ginger and Brigitte cross the street, both snorting back laughs with little success.

"Ginger," Brigitte says. "You are so _**bad**_."

Ginger pulls up short.

"Uh oh," she says. "Busted."

The Hunter is standing in the doorway of his motel room. His expression is not pleased.

"What the hell are you two thinking?" he says. "You two could have been seen. You could have been _taken_."

"I don't think the guy who saw us is going to be talking about it," Ginger says.

"You _didn't_…" the Hunter says.

"Didn't _what_?" Ginger says. "Oh! _Hell_ no! I just don't think he's ever gonna _want_ to talk about it."

"Well that," Brigitte says. "Or he'll never _stop_ talking about it."

The Fitzgerald sisters both snort and start to laugh. Ginger is able to force her face into a mask of seriousness first.

"We're sorry," she says to the Hunter. "We know we were stupid, but we just had to get out there for a little bit. We just went across the street."

The Hunter shakes his head and reaches into the room and picks up a small traveling case.

"We need to get moving again," the Hunter says. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Ginger says. "We just got the clothes on our back, and we've been using the motel's shampoo. We're good."

"Then let's go," the Hunter says. Ginger and Brigitte follow him, still trying to stifle further laughs. Ginger nudges Brigitte with her shoulder and jerks her chin in the Hunter's direction. Brigitte's eyes go wide as she shakes her head and mouths _NO_.

"The next time you two decide to go on a little field trip," the Hunter says. "I would like you to think about my _grandmother's_ sacrifice so that you two could get away. She's going to look pretty stupid if you two get captured by Rowlands because you got the late night munchies."

Ginger's and Brigitte's expressions turn serious until the Hunter utters the word "munchies". Then they both snort in their efforts to stifle laughter again.

The Hunter briefly looks skyward and says:

"Grandmother," he says softly. "You've stuck me with crazy women."

* * *

Rowlands is sitting behind the wheel of the black van. James, sitting in the passenger seat, leans forward to look past him.

"So that's the Fitzgerald household," James says. "That's the dysfunctional palace that gave us the weirdness that is the Fitzgerald sisters. It's smaller than I thought it would be."

"So, what now?" Claude says. "Do we go in?"

"Why?" asks James. "It's not like either one of them care enough about their parents to come save them if we hold them hostage. Neither one of them even use the words 'Mom' and 'Dad', they call them Pamela and Henry."

Rowlands sighs.

"So says the man who spent his childhood as a violent young thug bouncing from foster home to foster home," he says. "The bonds of family, Mr. Munroe, run deeper than the likes of you would ever suppose. The strong connection between the sisters betrays the strength of their family bonds. Pamela and Henry Fitzgerald are more important to them than they let on.

"And it's past time for a family reunion, don't you think?"

Rowlands gets out of the van.

"Say here," he says. He closes the van door and walks up the pathway to the Fitzgerald's front porch and rings the doorbell.

On the door of the Fitzgerald home is a black wreath. When the door opens, it is Pamela Fitzgerald in a black sweatshirt, blue jeans, and a huge black bow on her head.

"Yes?" she says. "May I help you?"

"Yes," says Rowlands. "I am Colonel Rowlands of the SIS. Are you Mrs. Pamela Fitzgerald?"

"Yes," says Pamela.

"I see you are in mourning," Rowlands says.

"Yes," Pamela says. "One of my daughters was killed by a bear in our own home, the other was murdered."

Rowlands nods, then turns and motions to the black van. As we hear the doors open and close, we see Henry Fitzgerald come up behind his wife.

"I have very good news for you, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald," he says. "Your daughters are actually both alive. They have been working under me in the SIS."

Rowlands takes out a gun with a silencer and points it at Pamela's stomach. Pamela and Henry both look dumbfounded.

"Unfortunately, I also have some very _bad_ news," Rowlands says. "Your daughters are now both deserters, and I have reason to believe they will at least come _by_ here. When they do, I want them to see that you have guests."

* * *

The sky is overcast as the red Escape passes the _Welcome to Bailey Downs_ sign.

Inside the Escape, Brigitte is asleep in the passenger seat. In the back seat, Ginger looks around in confusion.

"Excuse me," she says. "But I thought we were going _around _Bailey Downs."

"You need to see your family home," the Hunter says.

"_What_?" Ginger says. "No, we _don't_ need to be doing that. Henry and Pamela think we're dead, and it will be a huge production from Pamela if she sees B and me. She's a little crazy, you know."

"So that's where you get it from," the Hunter says under his breath.

"What?" Ginger says.

"You have wolf ears, you heard me," says the Hunter.

"You think we're crazy," Ginger says.

"I think _you're_ crazy," the Hunter says. "So am I, for that matter. Brigitte, on the other hand, may be the sanest person I've ever met.

Ginger nods.

"_That's_ fair," she says. "I really _meant _what I said about Pamela, though. She was going to kill Henry, burn the house down, and run away with us when she discovered Trina's body buried in the storage shed. I may not be the biggest fan of Henry or Pamela, but I'm really worried about what she would do if we came back for a visit and then tried to leave again."

"I didn't mean _see_ as in face to face see," the Hunter says. "I meant we drive by for one last look, so that you can say goodbye in your hearts."

"I _don't_ need to do that," Ginger says.

Brigitte stirs awake.

"I do," she says. "We can just go by for a second."

Ginger crosses her arms.

"Well, I won't be responsible for the shit fest if Pamela sees us through the window during our drive by," she says.

"It's the next right," Brigitte says to the Hunter.

"I know," says the Hunter. "I can not only read maps, I can memorize them. It takes me about 5 minutes."

"_Really_?" says Brigitte, turning to look at the Hunter. "That must be a useful skill in your line of work."

"Not really now, but it came in handy in the army," the Hunter says. "My CO would simply hand me a map, have me memorize it, then burn it."

Brigitte turns and puts her arm up on the back of the chair. She moves in such a way as to indicate that she has put most of her left leg on the seat, so that she is directing her entire attention to the Hunter. Ginger looks between the two, then looks at Brigitte and makes an exaggerated, lecherous, and comical wink. Brigitte either doesn't notice, or intentionally ignores, the antics of her older sibling.

"So did you go on missions with the army?" Brigitte asks.

"No, I missed the first Gulf War, and we were at peace when I was in the service," he replies. "But we ran scenarios all the time."

"I see," Brigitte says. "Did you…"

As Brigitte is speaking, Ginger suddenly sits up, her eyes widening. The Hunter's eyes narrow. Ginger interrupts Brigitte's question.

"OK, B," she says. "Time to stop flirting with the nice contract killer."

The Hunter's narrowed eyes go wide and he starts to turn towards Ginger. Brigitte turns to glare at Ginger as well. Ginger shakes her head at both and points.

"Eyes front, guys," Ginger says.

Both turn to look forward. Brigitte's expression turns to one of horrified surprise.

"Son of a bitch," Brigitte whispers. "I can't believe they came _here_."

"I assume that's…?" the Hunter says.

"Yeah," Ginger says as our view shifts to looking out the front windshield. We see the Fitzgerald house, and the black van parked on the street in front of it. "That's our house, and that's the pack's van parked in front of it."

The Hunter drives past the house and the van without slowing down. He continues down another four blocks before turning left and pulling over to the side.

"Stay here," the Hunter says. "I'll go and see if I can scout out the situation."

"What are you, crazy?" Ginger says. "No wait, you just said that you were. Are you _suicidal_ crazy? Those are _werewolves_ in there. You won't be able to sneak up on them."

"He snuck up on _us_, Ginger," Brigitte says.

"Oh yeah," Ginger says. "Well, don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed. I don't want us to be sitting in here like dorks when Rowlands walks up."

"Good point," the Hunter says. "Not that I plan on doing anything stupid."

He hands the keys over to Brigitte.

"If I don't come back in 10 minutes, _leave_," he says.

"Those are our _parents_ in there," Brigitte says. "We won't _leave_."

"Yeah," says Ginger. "We left one parent behind already on this trip, we aren't doing it again."

The Hunter's face tightens in anger, but he doesn't do anything else to acknowledge Ginger's comment.

"All right," he says. "If I don't come back in 10 minutes, come in after me and try not to get yourselves captured or killed."

The Hunter opens the car door and slips out, closing the door with no more sound than a soft click.

"Jeez," Ginger says. "How does he _do_ that?"

The Hunter, however, is not there to answer. He is already gone.

* * *

"I…I don't understand," Henry says. He is sitting in one of his dining room chairs. He is tied to the chair. Sitting at the dining room table across from him, also tied to her chair, is Pamela.

"Do you remember the team of men and women at your house when you came home on Halloween night?" Rowlands asks.

"You mean the EMS people and police officers?" Henry asks. "Of course I remember. I'll never forget it. They brought up Brigitte on a stretcher, then sat my wife and me down and told us that a bear had broken into the house and killed Ginger and a local boy. Brigitte had apparently managed to stab the bear to death with a butcher's knife."

"It wasn't a bear, Henry," Pamela says.

Rowlands, who had opened his mouth to say something else, closes it, looks at Pamela, and then opens his mouth to speak again.

"What else do you think it was, Pamela?" Rowlands asks.

"It was _Ginger_," Pamela says. "Ginger killed that boy, and Brigitte killed Ginger, just like she was supposed to."

Henry stares at his wife as if she had grown horns.

"_Supposed_ to?" Rowlands asks as he pulls up another dining room chair and sits next to Pamela, clearly fascinated by what she is saying.

"You know exactly what I mean, _Wallace_ Rowlands," Pamela says.

"I don't believe I _told_ you my first name, Mrs. Fitzgerald," Rowlands says, putting his gun down on the table and resting his chin in his hand.

"But I got it right, didn't I?" Pamela says.

"You did indeed," Rowlands says. "Am I to suppose that you know the story of the Red and the Black?"

Pamela simply stares at Rowlands.

"But if you know the prophecy in that story," Rowlands says. "Then you _must_ have noticed that there have been _more_ 'bear attacks' here since that Halloween night. Hardly consistent with what is supposed to happen when the Black kills the Red now is it?"

Henry finds his voice.

"What are you two _**talking**_ about?" Henry asks.

"Oh," Rowlands says, looking at Pamela and pointing at Henry. "You haven't told him the story? The story of the _first_ Fitzgerald sisters back in 1815?"

James and Claude, who are standing off to the side, look at one another. James mouths _what _and Claude shrugs.

"My two friends here don't know the story either, Mrs. Fitzgerald," Rowlands says. "Maybe you ought to tell it while we are waiting for your daughters."

Henry shakes his head.

"_Wait_," he says. "Rowlands, you were talking about the 'men and women' who were in our house."

"Oh yes," Rowlands said. "I'm sorry, I was distracted by the side conversation with your wife. Most of those people were from my team. They spirited Ginger out, who was seriously hurt but _not _dead."

"She was wounded by the bear?" Henry says.

Rowlands shakes his head.

"_Do_ try to keep up, Henry," he says. "Your wife was right, there _was_ no bear. Ginger was stabbed by Brigitte. We thought that Brigitte hadn't been infected, but we were fooled. Brigitte had managed to take a dose of her medicine. That was probably what made her pass out."

"_Infection_?" Henry asks. "_Medicine_?"

"Brigitte's a_** wendigo**_?" Pamela asks.

"Interesting choice of words, Pamela," Rowlands says. "I suppose the correct answer would be yes. Tell me, how did you know about the story of the Red and the Black?"

"Brigitte and Ginger are both _alive_?" Pamela asks.

Rowlands turns and looks at both James and Claude.

He shakes his head.

"No one is _**listening**_ to me," he says. "Yes, as I have _**already**_ been saying since the moment I rang your doorbell, your daughters are both alive. They're…"

Here, Rowlands smiles slightly and makes quotation marks with his hands.

"…'_**wendigos**_'," he says. "But otherwise they are alive."

Suddenly, Rowlands eyes narrow. He turns towards James and Claude.

"James," he says. "I believe we have a hunter looking in on us. Go turn him into prey, will you?"

James smiles and nods.

"With pleasure," he says. He walks to the sliding glass back door in the kitchen and slides it open, and walks out.

* * *

The Hunter watches from behind a back hedge row as James walks out of the sliding glass door. He starts to move very quietly behind the hedge row, then stops and looks back at the Fitzgeralds' backyard again. James is no longer there.

Then a hand falls on the Hunter's left shoulder, and James' face comes up behind the right side of the Hunter's head. The Hunter reaches down with his right hand.

"Looking for _this_, Great Red Hunter?" James says, bringing up the Hunter's silenced pistol and pointing it at his right temple. James chuckles briefly. "And Rowlands said that you were supposed to be _good_, but you just turned out to be another piece of meat. Hell, it was easier sneaking up on _you_ than it was on your grandmother."

"Well _hey,_ James."

James looks up. Ginger and Brigitte are now approaching him from either side. It was Ginger who had spoken.

"Well _here_ you are," James says. "It's about time."

"So what're you doing here, James?" Ginger asks.

"You might tell your fucktard of a sister not to come any closer as long as I got the gun here," James says. "And what else can I say? I came to meet the parents, get your father's blessing. He was very happy when I told him that he wasn't going to have to pay for a white dress, by the way."

"_Funny_," says Ginger. "But then you always were funny in a 'vodka killed half of my brain cells' kind of way."

The Hunter turns to look at Brigitte and winks. Then he says:

"Jesus Christ, just go ahead and shoot me now. We all know you're going to."

James nods once.

"Good idea," he says. He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He holds up the gun and looks at it in confusion. Our view shifts to the Hunter's right hand. His fingers are curled under his shirt sleeve, and come out with a short, flat bladed hiltless knife. Our view shifts back to James and the Hunter. The Hunter brings up his knife and stabs it into James' throat, underneath his chin. James' eyes go wide. He croaks, then blood pours out of his mouth. Holding his knife pinched in a fist between his middle and ring finger, the Hunter turns and gently takes his gun back with his left hand. James tries to work his mouth, but nothing comes out.

"This gun was custom made for me," the Hunter says. "It has a second, _hidden_ safety."

The Hunter pulls the knife out of James' throat. James falls face down, his body jerks a couple of times, then lies still.

"_That's_ for calling Brigitte…" the Hunter's voice stops for a second. "…what you called her."

Then he drops to a knee and very carefully wipes the blade on the grass.

Ginger looks at Brigitte.

"_Damn_ B," she says. "I think he _likes_ you."

* * *

Rowlands walks up to Claude.

"I'm afraid that James is no longer with us," he says. "Sara's grandson has done him in."

"I heard," Claude says. "What _is_ it with this family and killing werewolves?"

"Werewolves?" Henry says.

"_Wendigos_," Pamela says in a corrective tone of voice.

"Take the Fitzgeralds downstairs," Rowlands says as he picks up his gun again. "We'll make our stand here."

"Our _stand_?" Claude says. "We're _outnumbered_ now. I say we leave them here, get the fuck out of here, and call in reinforcements."

"Please do as I say, Claude," Rowlands says calmly.

Claude goes over and picks up Pamela's chair and turns it on its side, so that he is carrying both Pamela and the chair like a suitcase. The chair creaks some under the weight. Then he picks up the chair with Henry in it and does the same thing. His chair not only creaks, it makes a cracking sound.

Claude then walks out of the dining room carrying a chair in each hand. Henry and Pamela both grunt as the weight of their bodies causes the ropes to cut into them. Rowlands pulls one of the remaining dining room chairs so that its back is against the nearest wall, then sits and waits. We hear both the front door and the sliding kitchen door open.

"I'm in here," Rowlands says.

"Where are Henry and Pamela?" we hear Ginger's voice ask from the kitchen.

"Downstairs with Claude, as you already know," Rowlands says. "I think Claude is taking a fancy to your mother."

"Claude takes a fancy to anything with two legs and tits," Ginger replies.

"Yes," Rowlands says. "He does indeed. He was really quite distraught over Danielle's death. Danielle was durable enough to withstand his appetites. Human meat is not so durable."

Rowlands cock his head, canine fashion.

"Mr. Hunter," Rowlands says. "I recommend that you don't start down those stairs, or I will have to tell Claude to do with Mrs. Fitzgerald what he will."

Rowlands' head remains cocked for a few seconds longer, then he raises it and nods.

"Good choice, Mr. Hunter," he says.

"Let our parents go, Colonel Rowlands," Brigitte's voice says. "Let them go and we'll go with you."

"No you won't, Brigitte," Rowlands says. "You fully _believe_ in Sara's vision, don't you? I hate to disappoint you, but the vision is superstitious claptrap."

Rowlands gets up and moves silently across the dining room towards the kitchen.

"And what about you, Ginger?" he asks. "Do _you_ believe in Sara's vision?"

There is no response. Rowlands smiles and shakes his head.

"You really think you can hide from me by not answering?" he asks. "I can hear your heart beat."

"And I can hear yours," Ginger says from behind the kitchen doorway. We hear a short whistling sound of something traveling through the air, and a knife is suddenly sticking out of Rowland's upper left shoulder. "And since I grew up here, I know where the knives are kept. _**Now**_, B!"

Brigitte comes into the dining room, the sniper rifle at her shoulder. We hear an extremely loud crashing noise, a second loud crashing noise, then footsteps, then a window break.

"_Shit_," says Ginger. There is a hole in the dining room ceiling. Ginger and Brigitte run around the corner into what looks to be a master bedroom, where there is another hole in the ceiling. The window is shattered, and we hear receding, running footsteps

Brigitte looks at the ceiling.

"_**Ginger**_?" she says, her eyes wide. "How the _**hell**_ did he do _**that**_?"

"Claude!" we hear Rowlands say from somewhere in the front yard. We realize that we are experiencing the sort of the amplified hearing that Ginger and Brigitte have. "Kill Mrs. Fitzgerald if you please."

Our view switches to the Fitzgerald's basement. Claude takes a knee and leans forward into Pamela's face. Pamela's eyes go wide. Suddenly, we hear a loud cracking sound. Claude turns and raises his left hand and catches Henry's right hand at the wrist. Henry is standing with his chair half hanging off of his back. In his right hand Henry is holding his chair arm rest, its shattered lower end coming to a jagged point. Henry was obviously swinging it at Claude's head.

"No," says Claude, twisting Henry's wrist and breaking it. Henry cries out in pain and drops the arm rest. It clatters to the cement floor. "No participating. You just get to watch."

_**Pfft!**_

A red hole appears in Claude's left temple, and his right temple explodes in a bloody mess of bone and brain. Claude falls sideways and lays still. The Hunter comes down the stairs, gun in his hand.

"Are you both all right?" the Hunter asks.

"No, we are _not_," Pamela says testily. "That man broke Henry's wrist."

Upstairs in the dining room, Ginger tilts her head.

"Hear that, B?" she says. "The Hunter saved them."

"I _told_ you there was something off about Claude," Brigitte says as she and Ginger look out the shattered bedroom window. There is the sound of an engine starting and a van being driven away.

"He's getting away, Ginger," Brigitte says.

"Yeah, but we'll be seeing him again," Ginger says.

Our view shifts to the interior of the van. Rowland's ears are again pointed and his teeth are large. He pulls the knife out of his shoulder and tosses it into the passenger seat. He then pulls a cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

He punches in a number, wincing slightly in pain as he does so because he's having to steer with his left hand and his injured shoulder.

"Yes," he says. "Director Bligh, please."

"Hello, Ms. Bligh," Rowlands says. "Yes, I'm afraid that things are not going well."

He listens, then says:

"They got all of them," Rowlands says. "Yes, you'll need to send in a team. Yes, I know this means I'll have to start over. Yes, I still think the project is worth doing. Yes, ma'am. _Thank_ you, ma'am."

Rowlands snaps the cell phone closed, wincing once again slightly as he does so.

"Bitch," he says to the closed phone. He makes a sudden hard right turn. Two or three cars honk.

* * *

We see Henry and Pamela coming up the stairs. The Hunter follows. As Henry and then Pamela reach the top of the stairs and step into the hallway, they turn and look and freeze, their jaws dropping. Then our view switches so that we see what they are seeing. Brigitte and Ginger are standing together, both awkwardly looking at each other, down and around, and eventually at their parents.

"Hey," says Ginger, her voice subdued and quiet.

"Hi Mom, Dad," Brigitte says. "We're, uhm, home?"

Pamela sobs and runs up to first Ginger and hugs her tightly, then, still hanging onto Ginger, she moves sideways to envelop Brigitte in a hug too. Ginger looks up at the Hunter, then down at Pamela, who is now sobbing uncontrollably, then back up at the Hunter. She mouths the words:

_See? Crazy_.

Henry looks at the Hunter, then back at the spectacle of his sobbing wife and two very embarrassed daughters.

"What…the …hell…is …going…on…here?" he asks.

* * *

Brigitte is carrying James' corpse, draped over her shoulder, through the kitchen door, as if it weighs nothing.

"So let me see if I have this straight," Henry says, his right arm and wrist now in a sling. "You're infected with this virus that is turning you into wolves."

"It's a package of viruses and bacteria, but yeah, that's basically it," says Brigitte as she carries the corpse through the kitchen, the dining room, and the hallway until she reaches the stairs. Then she starts to walk down the stairs cautiously, but still carrying James' body with shocking ease. At the bottom of the stairs, she lays James' body right next to Claude's.

"And before it turns you into wolves, it turns you into _werewolves_?" Henry says. "And that's what happened to _Ginger_?"

"It happened to both of us, but it happened to Ginger first," Brigitte says.

"And you _stabbed_ her," Henry says.

"Yeah, right over there," Brigitte says, pointing in the direction of her and Ginger's old room. "I think it was an accident."

"I think I need to sit down," Henry says.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Brigitte says, running up to her father, taking him by the upper arms, and moving him over. "I think you need be standing over a chair when you do that."

"Oh yeah," Henry says. "Thank you."

Our view switches to the upstairs. We are in the master bedroom. Pamela is looking from the hole in the ceiling to the broken window, and back again.

"I'm never going to get this mess cleaned," she says.

Ginger is standing at the doorway, watching her mother.

"So is Rowlands possessed by a wendigo too?" Pamela asks. "Like you?"

Ginger's forehead wrinkles in confusion.

"A wendigo?" she says. "What the f-, I mean, what's a wendigo?"

The Hunter appears behind Ginger.

"It's a legend from a number of native cultures, including my people," he says. "The wendigo is supposed to be a spirit that possesses people who eat human flesh and transforms them into giant, man eating monsters. My grandmother thought that the legend came from around here, when the lycanthropy outbreak started. Most of my people in fact do refer to werewolves as wendigos."

"Makes sense," says Ginger. "People get bitten, turn homicidal as the pathogen starts to take effect, then turn into huge monsters."

The Hunter turns around and walks away, leaving Ginger alone with her mother. Ginger looks at him briefly and opens her mouth as if she is going to beg him to stay with her, but she doesn't say anything. She turns back towards her mother.

"I _tried_ to tell myself it wasn't going to happen," says Pamela. "I thought it would be a funny joke when I named you Ginger, with our last name being Fitzgerald and all. Then your red hair came in and I was terrified I was tempting fate. Then your sister was born with her light, fine blond hair and I thought it was safe to indulge in the joke again. But, as she got older Brigitte's hair turned dark. Then the beast came, and I knew how deeply stupid I had been. I knew that I had brought the Red and the Black back into the world."

"W.._wait_ a minute!" Ginger says, surprised. "You _knew_ the story of the Red and the Black? How the _fuck_ did you know about _that_?"

"_Language_, Ginger," Pamela says as she starts to pick up pieces of broken glass from the windowsill.

"Never mind about that Mo-Pamela," Ginger says. "_Answer_ my question."

"Well, I grew _up_ here, of course," Pamela says. "I knew the local legends."

"Excuse me, Mom," Ginger says, then shakes her head at her own forgetfulness. "_Pamela_. Remember Mrs. Varner, our third grade teacher? She knew all the local legends and had us all do projects on them. She never _once_ talked about the Red and the Black."

"Well, that story would have hardly been appropriate to tell to third graders, now would it?" Pamela says.

Ginger shrugs.

"You got a point there," Ginger says.

"But still, you're right," Pamela says, picking up another piece of glass and giving a small cry as it cuts her finger. She brings her finger up to her mouth. Ginger, unnoticed behind her, licks her lips. "I doubt Mrs. Varner knew about the story of the Red and the Black either. But my grandmother on my mother's side, your great grandmother, was half Indian you know. She claimed to be a direct descendent of the seer who had the first vision of the Red and the Black."

"Wow," Ginger says. "There really _**is**_ such a thing as destiny."

"Well of course there is, dear," Pamela says, flapping the hand with the injured finger in the air. "_I've_ always thought so."

As Pamela speaks, Ginger's expression indicates that she has just had another, more upsetting, thought.

"Holy _shit_," Ginger mutters to herself. "I just realized. Brigitte wants to fuck our _cousin_."

"_What _was that?" Pamela asks.

"Nothing," Ginger says loudly. Then she starts to mutter quietly to herself again. "But it's OK. They'll be _distant_ cousins by now. Besides, Brigitte will make sure he wears protection so nothing should happen and _then_ we'll be wolves and he'll be out of the picture anyway."

"What _are_ you prattling on about, dear?" Pamela says. Then, without waiting for an answer, she turns and sighs. "I'm going to have to call somebody about this window. Not to mention the ceilings…"

Pamela starts to prattle on herself, but we don't hear it. We hear through Ginger's ears as she filters out her mother's talking. Then we hear Brigitte's voice come up from the basement.

"Mind your own business, Ginger."

* * *

Henry is packing a large suitcase. It contains some clothes, and now he is packing some framed photographs and some books, including a photo album. Brigitte is helping him pack.

"I'm really sorry about this, Dad," Brigitte says.

Henry nods, then smiles.

"Brigitte," he says. "I'm not. I'm glad to lose a house in exchange for getting my two daughters back. Besides, this place has been a tomb since you two were gone."

"Dad, it couldn't have been too lively when we were here," Brigitte says. "It's not like we talked to you much or anything."

"You and Ginger were close," he says. "I understood you were different."

"We were into _death_, Dad," Brigitte says. "Ginger and I even had a suicide pact."

Henry stops his packing and looks at his daughter, his expression horrified and fearful.

"You were going to _kill_ yourselves?" Henry asks.

Brigitte shakes her head.

"I really don't think we were," Brigitte says. "I think we just liked to talk about it. At least I'm pretty sure I wasn't, and I was privately hoping that Ginger was all talk as well. But then Ginger got bitten and things got all messed up."

"It sounds like things were already messed up," Henry says as he resumes packing. "I should have _known_ about this. As you know, I tended to let your mother deal more directly with you."

"Yeah, and we _appreciated_ that," Brigitte says in a mildly sarcastic tone.

Henry turns and looks at Brigitte, who is smiling slightly at him. Then he starts to shake his head and laugh a little.

The scene switches to Pamela carrying a large suitcase with two hands. It is heavy and she is struggling. Ginger comes up to her and takes it, holding the suitcase easily by one hand and moving it up and down speculatively, as if trying to guess the weight.

"Craft stuff?" Ginger asks.

"Craft stuff," Pamela confirms.

"So you were told the story of the Red and the Black," Ginger says.

"Yes, by my mother," Pamela says. "I suppose it's lucky that she didn't live to see me name her granddaughters after the original Fitzgerald sisters. She would have been horrified at my tempting of fate. She was worried enough when I married someone with the last name of _Fitzgerald_. I guess I just have a warped sense of humor. Always have."

"Really?" Ginger says.

"Oh, you have no idea how many trips I made to the principal's or counselor's office for the pranks my brothers and I pulled," Pamela says. "I was the terror of Bailey Downs High School."

"So was I," Ginger says. "Only in my case, you know, literally. I killed my counselor."

"I know, Ginger," Pamela says.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" Ginger says.

"I knew what Brigitte had actually killed in that basement," Pamela says. "Or so I thought."

"Oh she _killed_ me, alright," Ginger says. "But only for a _little_ while, until Rowlands and his team were able to revive me."

"Oh, Ginger, when I watched how close you two were getting, and how _morbid _you two were getting," Pamela says. "When I saw Brigitte's hair turn dark and stay dark, I just had this sense of impending doom. I so wanted to protect you, but knew that I couldn't. And then that counselor told me that you two were known at school as the 'weird sisters'…

"…and I looked for anything, _**anything**_ that would prove to me that you were just two normal girls."

Ginger suddenly looks at her mother as if a light is going on in her head.

"Like_ periods_," Ginger says.

"Yes," Pamela says. "You two still hadn't had your first period when you were 15 and 16. I was _seriously_ freaked out by that."

"_That_ explains a lot," Ginger mutters to herself.

* * *

"So is everybody packed?" the Hunter asks. Everyone is standing in the living room.

Brigitte, wearing black slacks and a black turtleneck, nods.

"I think so," she says. "Thanks for keeping some of our old clothes, Mom. I was getting tired of the jeans and sweatshirt."

"You're welcome, dear," Pamela says.

"Yeah, thanks, Pamela," Ginger says. Ginger is wearing a purple crop top shirt and dark blue jeans.

"It wouldn't hurt for you to call her 'Mom' too, would it, Ginger?" Henry says with an edge of anger in his voice. Pamela lightly touches Henry's arm.

"It's alright, Henry," she says.

"It's _disrespectful_, Pam," Henry says.

"It's Ginger being _Ginger_, Henry," Pamela says.

"Can we _please_ get the fuck out of here, now?" Ginger asks the Hunter.

The Hunter nods.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald," the Hunter says. "You take Ginger, Brigitte, and Henry in your SUV. You drive down to your favorite restaurant, say goodbye to your girls, go in, and call that number I gave you. Then you _wait _there for my cousin. Ginger and Brigitte will wait in the SUV until I come to pick them up."

"And what are _you_ going to do?" Henry asks.

"I'm going down to the basement and look for a way to start a fire," the Hunter says. "Hopefully, James and Claude will be identified as two guys who got caught in a botched arson."

"Uhm, Mr. Hunter," Pamela says.

"Yes, Mrs. Fitzgerald," the Hunter says.

"There's some Turpentine and an electric space heater I keep in the basement," she says. "The heater's on a timer."

Henry looks at his wife, his eyes wide. Ginger and Brigitte share a knowing look.

"Thank you, Mrs. Fitzgerald, that should do fine," the Hunter says.

* * *

Rowlands steps out of his black van. He looks completely human again, and he moves his left arm in a circle experimentally, making a slight face as he does so. He is parked next to a sign that says _Bailey Downs, A Caring and Safe Community_. In the background, we hear fire sirens and as our view moves around Rowlands, we see black smoke in the distance.

Then we hear the beat of the rotors of a helicopter, followed by the sounds of another helicopter. Our view pans up until we see two massive black helicopters in the distance approaching Rowlands. One of them stays in the air while the other one descends onto the field. The long grass bends away from the landing helicopter, and Rowlands, his head down, runs to it. The same dark skinned and curly haired man we saw before meets him at the helicopter door, this time in black military fatigues.

"Colonel Rowlands," the man says. "Director Bligh wanted me to be _**very clear**_ with you on this. This is exclusively a search, destroy and cleanup mission. No attempt is to be made to retrieve _**either**_ of the Fitzgerald sisters alive."

"Of course," Rowlands says. He gets onto the helicopter. As the helicopter ascends, he looks out the window at the rising plume of smoke.

**End Act 5**

**The next act will be it, folks. End of the road. **


	7. Act 6

**Act 6**

**So here we are, Act 6. Twice as long as I anticipated and twice as long as some of the other acts. I decided, since I separated out the prologue, to do the same with the epilogue. Thus, I am posting the epilogue at the same time I am posting this act. **

We see the red Escape pull into the parking lot of an Applebee's restaurant. The parking lot is three quarters empty. Our view shifts to the Hunter inside the Escape. He looks back and forth then pulls into a parking spot.

"Where _**are**_ they?" he says.

He pulls out his cell phone and punches in a number.

"Yeah, Veronica?" he says. "No call? No. No, just stay put. Stay out of this. Thanks for your offer to help. Yeah, I miss her too. Goodbye."

The Hunter shuts his cell phone and looks at it.

"Shit," he says.

* * *

"Pamela, what are you _**doing**_?"

This question is asked voice over by Henry as we look down on the Fitzgerald's SUV moving extremely fast down a highway. Then we are face on with the interior of the SUV. Pamela is driving, Henry's in the passenger seat, and Brigitte and Ginger are sitting behind them.

"Yeah, Pamela," Ginger says. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm not _**leaving **_you two just after finding you again," Pamela says.

"Shit," says Ginger. "I _**knew**_ this was going to happen. _Here's_ the shit storm."

"Be quiet, Ginger, you're not helping," Brigitte says. "Mom, not to correct you or anything, but Ginger and I found _you_. We came in and saved you from people who were going to kill you, and the _**chief bad guy is still out there**_! You're going to be safest at the Applebee's until the Hunter's cousin arrives. She's a Mountie."

"No," Pamela says, shaking her head. "No, we'll find someone. Someone in the government who can give you that treatment other than that awful Rowlands."

"Mom," Brigitte says, talking calmly as if she was the parent, and Pamela was the child. "There _is_ no one else, and the point is moot. Neither Ginger nor I are going back. Remember the _prophecy_, Mom? We're fulfilling the _prophecy_. We won't do that if we go back to the government."

"Not to mention the fact that the government wouldn't take us back without _**killing you**_!" Ginger says.

"Ginger…" Brigitte says.

"Yeah, right," Ginger says. "I know. I'm not helping."

Ginger's hair now has white streaks along the front. Her head goes down and her hair hangs down over her face.

"_Fine_, then!" Pamela says. "You can _bite_ your father and me, and we can all be wendigos and wolves together."

"_**What**_?" Henry says, staring at his wife.

"OK, fine," Pamela says. "You can bite_ me_ and we can all _eat_ your father!"

"_**WHAT**_?? Henry says.

"_**Fuck this shit**_!" Ginger yells. "_**Pamela, stop the fucking car**_!"

Pamela jumps slightly. Ginger leans forward and grabs Pamela's right upper arm and starts to squeeze. Ginger's teeth are gritted and we now see extended canine teeth, small but noticeable fangs.

"_**Ginger**_!" Pamela yells. "_**You're hurting me**_!"

In response, Ginger simply growls. The SUV starts to swerve violently back and forth.

"Oh God," Henry says, his expression sick and terrified.

"_**Ginger**_!" Brigitte says authoritatively. "_Get yourself under control_. _**NOW**_!"

Ginger lets go and sits back in her seat. Her head goes back down.

"Mom," Brigitte says calmly but forcefully, leaning forward as she does so. "Mom, stop the car."

Pamela slows and stops the car. She is breathing hard, and her eyes are wide and terrified.

"Mom," Brigitte says. "We can't stay with you. We can't go back. You now know we're alive, which is something you didn't know three hours ago. Ginger and I want to _keep_ _**you**_ alive too. That's the best that we can do."

Pamela starts to cry, then to sob. Henry awkwardly tries to lean forward and hug her with his one good arm, but Pamela swats him away. Henry sits back for a second. Then he leans forward again.

"Pamela," he says gently. "You know she's right. You know she's right. Shhhhh. Shhhhhh."

This time, Pamela collapses on Henry's shoulder and starts to weep. Evidently, his injured wrist bears some of the weight and he makes a pained face. But he doesn't pull away, and his good left arm moves around her.

"Shhhhh," he says.

Our view switches to a close up of the next seat back. Ginger is starting to rock.

"Ginger?" Brigitte says, a concerned look on her face.

"It's _starting_, B," Ginger whispers. "The hair color change, the teeth, and I've got a tail hanging between my butt cheeks. I'm getting hungry and it _isn't_ for fucking nachos. We've got to get to the woods and get away from them, or I swear to God, B, I'm gonna _kill_ them both."

"I'm feeling it to, Ginger," Brigitte says. "We just have to hold it together."

"Yeah, but you've got a lot better self control than I do," Ginger says.

"_**Fuck you**_, Ginger!" Brigitte hisses.

"_**What**_?" Ginger says.

"You heard me," Brigitte says. "I said _**fuck you**_! You spent this entire_ fucking_ trip apologizing to me for all the things you did, but you obviously aren't _really_ sorry if you are so fucking ready to lose self control again! Do you think it's not hard for _**me**_? You think _**I**_ don't want to kill the meat in the front seat?"

Our view briefly shifts to Pamela and Henry. Pamela raises her tearstained face and she and Henry exchange frightened looks.

"Sure I want to kill them, Ginger! Sure I want to _eat_ them! But I won't do it because they're my fucking parents and whether you are a human or a wolf, _**eating your parents is just fucking wrong**_! _It's __**that**_ _fucking simple_! So I won't do it and _you won't either_. You got it?"

Ginger doesn't respond.

"_You fucking got it_?" Brigitte asks again. This time Ginger nods meekly.

Brigitte leans back. Henry and Pamela look at her wordlessly.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Brigitte says to them.

Henry and Pamela look down.

"No, wait," Brigitte says. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. But Mom, Dad, do you see how it is? Part of the transition from human to werewolf is a homicidal phase that increases as you approach transformation. By the time we reach chrysalis…"

"Chrysalis?" Pamela echoes numbly.

"The _wendigo_ stage," Brigitte says. "When we reach that we will try to kill and eat _anything_ we can catch, including you or any human being that comes around. You guys _can't_ be around us when we get to that point. No human being can. Do you understand now?"

Pamela nods. Henry just looks at Pamela and reaches forward with his left hand and gently strokes her cheek.

"Pamela," he says. "We have to go back to Applebee's and let them go with the Hunter. We have to let them _go_, sweetheart."

Pamela nods again, then turns to start the car.

"No," Ginger says.

"What?" Brigitte says. "What do you mean 'no', Ginger?"

"B, listen," Ginger says. Brigitte cocks her head and listens. Then she turns and looks at Ginger.

"Helicopters," she says.

"Yeah," Ginger says. "Two of them. At least troop transport, possibly gun ships as well. We won't be able to make it back to Bailey Downs and Applebee's now. We have to keep going."

Brigitte nods.

"She's right," she says to Pamela. "Mom, start the car up and drive towards the forest. And drive _fast_."

Ginger shakes her head.

"We're not gonna make it, B," she says. "We're still too far."

* * *

Inside one of the helicopters, the man with black curly hair is leaning over his pilot.

"We have satellite confirmation, sir," the pilot says. "That's the Fitzgerald's SUV. We've also got confirmation that traffic is light. They're practically alone out there."

"Good," the curly haired man says. "Call our people on the ground, have them block off the road about ten miles on each end. Then let's start buzzing them, see if we can slow them down."

"Yes, sir," the pilot says.

"Major North," Rowlands says, appearing next to the curly haired man. "I'd like you to have the pilot hover our craft directly over the Fitzgerald's vehicle, if you will."

"We are going to be buzzing them, Colonel," North says.

"Not buzzing, Major," Rowlands says. "Hovering. I want to do a drop."

"A drop?" North says incredulously. "The driver of that thing is going almost a 100. You won't be able to do a drop onto that."

"_I_ can," Rowlands says.

The pilot and North look at one another. Then Major North claps his pilot on the shoulder.

"You heard the Colonel," North says. "Bring the copter over the van and hold position over it."

"All right, sir," the pilot says with a shrug, an odd expression on his face.

As North and Rowlands leave the cockpit, the pilot turns to his co-pilot.

"Either we have Indiana Jones on board," he says. "Or we have someone who's really fucking delusional."

The co-pilot nods.

Our view switches to the side of the helicopter. The door opens, and we see Rowlands and North. Rowlands is working with a rigging and a thin rope. While he is doing so, North turns to look in the interior of the helicopter and jerks his head in a summoning gesture. A bald man of far eastern heritage, dressed in identical black fatigues to North, appears. Then North turns to Rowlands.

"I'm having Captain Chang assist us," North says.

Rowlands turns to look at Chang, and finds himself looking at a pistol pointed at his gut.

"You don't need to finish fastening the harness, Colonel," North says. "You can go ahead and make the drop now."

"I see," Rowlands says. "Director Bligh has decided to close the entire project."

"Are you really surprised?" North asks.

"No," Rowlands says, then with lightning quickness he grabs North with his right hand and swings him into Chang, knocking the gun aside. Then he throws North out the door. "When I said I could make the drop, I didn't mean that I would be the one dropping."

Our view switches to North falling onto the road. The Fitzgerald van is coming up right underneath him.

* * *

"They're right over us, B," Ginger says, looking out the side window.

"I see that, Ginger," Brigitte responds from behind her. "Do you have any ideas of what to do about it?"

Suddenly, we hear a loud crash, and our view switches to the interior of the SUV, looking out the front windshield. North's body has dropped onto the front end of the van and rolled into the windshield, cracking it. Pamela screams and the SUV skids and everyone is screaming. It doesn't roll, however, and it comes to a complete stop. North's wide eyed and very dead face is staring in at them.

* * *

"Holy shit!" yells the pilot. "That was the Major!"

He pulls up and our view switches to the exterior of the helicopter as we see it move up vertically instead of continuing to travel horizontally. We see someone drop along the rope, sliding down it for about thirty feet before dropping the last twenty feet or so to the ground.

The man who slid down the rope is, of course, Rowlands. As he lands we now see him close up. Immediately after he lands, his face morphs. His ears become pointed, his face projects almost into a snout, and he has fangs. His hands are now fur covered and clawed, and then he turns and starts to literally lope away into the evergreen brush on the side of the road.

* * *

Inside the SUV, Ginger is yelling.

"Everybody out!" she yells. "Mom, you're with me. Dad, you're with Brigitte."

Pamela and Ginger open their doors and get out. Pamela stumbles but Ginger hauls her to her feet and they start to run in a straight line away from the SUV. About 10 feet from the side of the road, they run into evergreen brush about 8 to 10 feet high, and start to fight their way through it. Behind them, the SUV suddenly explodes, and Ginger tackles Pamela to the ground.

"_Brigitte_!" Pamela yells. "_**Hank**_!"

"They're all right!" Ginger yells, practically in Pamela's ear. "She'll have gotten them out. We need to keep moving!"

* * *

Chang now has a sniper rifle and is trying line a shot into the brush.

"Dammit!" Chang yells. "I've lost visual on all of them."

Another man comes up alongside him.

"Shall we try to burn them out, sir?" he yells.

Chang shakes his head.

"If we start a fire here, they may not be able get it under control before it reaches either the forest or Bailey Downs, whichever way the wind is blowing," Chang says.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but is that our problem?" the man says.

"We're still Canadians, soldier," Chang says. "So yes, it is."

Chang turns and moves up to the front of the helicopter.

"Radio Thunderbird 2," Chang says. "Tell them to keep aloft, fly low and see if they can't blow some of the brush out of the way to get a visual. Then I want _you_ to land on the street. We're going to ground."

"Sir, there's still some traffic approaching," the pilot says. "Our men on the ground weren't able to get set in time to keep _all_ incoming traffic out."

Chang shakes his head.

"Can't be helped," he says. "I want to get down there, get Rowlands and the Fitzgeralds, and end this _quickly_."

"Yes, sir," the pilot says.

* * *

"Ginger, I think they're landing one of the helicopters," Pamela says.

"That's good," Ginger says. "That means they're not using infrared. As long as we stay in the brush, they won't be able to find us to pick us off, and B and I will have the advantage over the people on the ground."

"Not over _all_ of the people on the ground," we hear Rowlands' voice say, and suddenly, he is standing in front of Pamela, pointing his silenced gun at her sternum. His features are still a mixture of human and lupine. "_Me_, for instance."

"Your _face_…" Pamela says in horror.

"Hello, Pamela," Rowlands says, pulling the trigger twice. _**Pfft! Pfft!**_ "_Goodbye_, Pamela."

Pamela drops down to the ground, her eyes wide in shock. Rowlands turns.

"Ginger, so good to see you…" he says, before he is cut off as Ginger leaps on him with a growl. She grabs his gun arm and we have a quick close up as she takes his arm in both hands and bites him on the wrist.

"Ow," Rowlands says mildly as he drops the gun. He reaches over and grabs Ginger's hair and pulls her off of his wrist. Then he drops to a knee and slams her face down into the ground and holds her there. "_Bad_ girl."

* * *

We switch to the interior of the Escape. We are looking over the Hunter's right shoulder as he drives up to a line of cars. The cars in front of him are turning around, mostly one at a time from the front, but occasionally a car further back turns around as well.

"_Bingo_," the Hunter says. He steers his vehicle onto the left shoulder of the road. There is the brush of a regenerating forest growing on either side of the road, so he doesn't have much room. In front of him, there is a road block manned by men with RCMP and military uniforms. As they see the Hunter approach, several of the men bring out their automatic rifles and point them at him. The Hunter slows down, and rolls down his window.

One of the men in a military uniform runs up, his rifle pointed at the Hunter.

"Get out of the car, _**now**_!" he yells.

"I'm expected," the Hunter says. "Run my tags."

As he speaks, he turns off his engine and gets out of the Escape with his hands up.

"Stay where you are," the soldier says. Another soldier talks into a radio on his shoulder, then looks up at the first soldier.

"The vehicle's registered with the Department," he says.

"Who are you?" the soldier asks the Hunter.

"My ID is in my wallet," the Hunter says. "You'll also find an empty holster on my right hip. The gun is inside the car."

The soldier jerks his head at his fellow who had talked into the radio.

"Check it out," he says.

The second soldier circles behind the Hunter, reaches into his rear pocket, and pulls out the wallet. He opens it up, looks in it, then steps back and talks into his radio again. Then he listens for a few seconds, talks again, then listens some more. Then he turns and hands the wallet to the Hunter.

"He checks out," the second soldier says. "He's authorized to go in there."

The first soldier raises his rifle and jerks his head at the Hunter.

"Go," he says.

The Hunter gets into the Escape and drives up the barricade. The first soldier waves to the men at the barricade, and they open it up. The Hunter drives through.

The first soldier looks at the second soldier.

"Call command again, and suggest to them that they radio the people inside and tell them that an Indian from CSIS is coming to join them. I'm still not sure that guy's supposed to be in there."

* * *

Ginger's struggles are weakening as Rowlands still continues to press her face into the ground.

"Ginger, _Ginger_," Rowlands says. "You have caused me all sorts of heartache. We have lost our funding, and we are going to have to go on the run. Well, I will anyway. _You_ won't be coming."

"Get off of her, asshole."

Rowlands looks up just in time to get kicked in the face. He falls back into a sitting position, and Ginger pulls her dirt encrusted face up and loudly gasps as she inhales air. Brigitte stands between Rowlands and Ginger, Rowlands' gun in her hand.

"_Shoot_ him, B!" Ginger gasps. "He shot Mom."

"It won't work, Brigitte," Rowlands says. "Like the Hunter's, my gun is custom made and has a second safety."

Brigitte looks at the gun briefly, then decides to pull the trigger anyway, only to have her gun swatted aside by Rowlands. We hear the gun go off. _**Pfft!**_

"I lied, of course," Rowlands says. Brigitte in response hits Rowlands as hard as she can with her left fist, knocking him back several steps and then onto his butt. Brigitte waves her hand in obvious pain, but then, her face determined, she closes on Rowlands.

"Well done, Brigitte," Rowlands says. "But it isn't time for the main event _quite_ yet."

With that, he stands up with incredible speed and backhands Brigitte across the face, literally knocking her into the air and into Ginger, who is getting to her feet behind her. Both sisters fall down.

"Brigitte," Rowlands says. "You need to learn by smell. _Smell_ will give you the answers you don't even know you need."

With that, Rowlands' face shifts, becoming even more bestial. His ears become more pointed and his teeth increase in length.

"My condolences for your mother, Brigitte," he says as he turns and moves silently into the brush.

Brigitte turns and looks at her mother lying on her back, a red stain on her black sweatshirt.

"_**Mom**_!" Brigitte yells.

Pamela's eyes are wide and still, and her chest isn't moving.

"She's gone, B, and we can't stay," Ginger says. "Where's _**Dad**_?"

Brigitte turns and looks towards the road. Standing under a particularly thick canopy of evergreen brush, Henry is standing and staring down at his wife.

"pam?" he whispers. "_baby_?"

Then he starts to move forward but Brigitte intercepts him.

"_Nononononononono_!" Henry says, trying to push forward.

"_No_, Dad," she says. "We can't stay here. We have to _move_."

"So _go_," Henry says. "I'll just slow you down."

"Dad," Brigitte says. "We've just lost our mother. We don't want to lose our father too."

"Why_ not_?" Henry says. "You were _leaving_ us to become animals. I'll never see you again, and now my Pam is gone. I have no one. Let me stay."

"If you stay," Brigitte says. "They'll kill you, too."

Ginger comes up to her sister and her father. There is more white hair along the front of her part now, her forehead has ridges on it, and her eyes are a very light, arctic blue. Her teeth, particularly her canines, are very long. She looks terrifying, but Henry doesn't notice, he is looking back at his wife's body.

"Dad," Ginger says, speaking softly in his ear. "If we all get through this, B and I promise to…"

Then Ginger whispers something. Brigitte looks up, tears on her cheeks.

"_Really_?" Brigitte asks Ginger.

"Cross my heart, B," Ginger says. "But we _all_ have to get through_ this_ first."

"Right," Brigitte says. "Come on, Dad. Follow us."

We now hear, through the kind of amplified hearing that Ginger and Brigitte have, soldiers moving through the brush.

"They're on all sides of us but there…" Ginger says, pointing to her right at about the two o'clock position. "…and there." Ginger now points further to her right.

Brigitte points briefly to the second direction that Ginger pointed in.

"That's the way Rowlands went," she says. "So let's go the other way."

Ginger picks up Rowlands' abandoned gun. "I'll lead the way, you get Dad."

"Right," Brigitte says as she picks up her father and puts him over her shoulder. "Don't say anything, Dad."

The sisters move off. Our view pans down to Pamela, her eyes wide and staring. Then, we hear footsteps, and reflected in her eyes we see Chang and two other men.

"Son of a bitch," Chang says, gently and sadly. He drops to a knee and closes Pamela's eyes.

"Begging your pardon, sir," one of the men says. "But wasn't that one of our targets?"

"Yes, soldier, but she was also a civilian." Chang says. "So is the father. This is nothing _but_ tragic."

"Sir, our orders are to…" the man starts to say. Chang stands up and gets right into his face.

"_**I am aware of what my orders are, Reynolds**_!" Chang yells. "But the fact is we are simply sacrificing the parents because of their physical and emotional proximity to two of our real targets. We need to never forget that they are the very people we are _supposed_ to be here to protect!

"_Never_ forget that, Reynolds, but make no mistake either. I _**will**_ follow orders."

As more soldiers appear around him, Chang looks around. Then he says:

"The Fitzgerald sisters, the father, and Rowlands; find them and do them all."

* * *

The Hunter is driving down the road in the red Escape when in the distance he and we see a small line of cars stopped before a large black helicopter sitting on the highway. The second helicopter is hovering over the brush forest about 200 hundred feet on the left side of the highway. The Hunter pulls over, gets out, crosses the highway, and runs into the brush.

* * *

We are in the second helicopter. A sniper is looking out the open door, and we are looking down with him as the rotors blow aside some of the branches, and we briefly see Brigitte running with Henry on her back.

The sniper fires.

* * *

Brigitte continues to run with surprising ease considering Henry is slung over her back. She looks over her shoulder as we hear the crack of several bullets as she moves into more dense brush. Then Brigitte runs at a 90% angle from the direction she was going. Ginger crosses her path and starts to run ahead of her.

"You OK?" she asks Brigitte.

"Yeah," she says. "Dad?"

"Here," he croaks.

Brigitte and Ginger run a bit father then stop. Brigitte puts her father down.

"The soldier boys are all to our left, but they're all moving in our direction thanks to that shot," Ginger says. As the helicopter goes overhead, all three of them move under the densest tangle of branches projecting from the thickest trunk. The helicopter hovers for a few seconds, and some of the branches around them part, but the ones over them hold steady. Then the helicopter moves on.

"They're moving in a pretty solid line," Brigitte says. "If we double back where we came from we might be able to get around them."

"No," Ginger says. "I think we move this way at an angle." Ginger points back the way they came, but at a ten o'clock angle. "We need to be trying to move towards the thickest part of the forest."

"Ok," Brigitte says.

"I'll take Dad," Ginger says, handing Brigitte the Rowlands' pistol. "You take the gun."

* * *

Three soldiers, all dressed in black, are moving into a small clearing in the brush. The lead soldier, a powerful looking man with very short sandy hair, raises his hand, and the two men behind him stop. He starts to point to his left when there is a deep, inhuman growl, seemingly coming from all around them. All three men put their automatic rifles to their shoulders. One of them, a shorter man with a pencil thin mustache, suddenly starts to fire into the brush.

"Hold your fire!" the sandy haired man yells. "You have no idea who is in there!"

Suddenly, there is a growl from right behind him. He turns, and there is Rowlands' face, spare inches from his. Rowlands smiles, showing very big teeth. As the scene suddenly turns black, we hear a scream followed by a sudden wet crunch.

* * *

Brigitte and Ginger stop their movement through the forest. We hear gunshots and screams at a distance. Then the sounds change, becoming amplified as we hear the events as Ginger and Brigitte hear them. The screams and gunshots are gone, replaced by tapering whimpers, growls and wet crunching and tearing noises.

"Rowlands is _killing_ them," Brigitte says.

"_Good_," Ginger says.

"Ginger, that's _not_ good," Brigitte says.

"You _heard_ that Captain Chang guy," Ginger says. "'Find them and do them all'? 'All' includes _us_, B. These guys have two helicopters and probably 40 guys between them. There is no way the two of us, particularly carrying Dad, are going to get away from them unless something slows them down or even stops them. Rowlands may be homicidal, but he is saving our butts right now."

Brigitte looks back in the direction of the soldiers. Then she looks at Ginger and her father. Brigitte then nods.

"You're right, Ginger," she says. "Let's keep going."

Brigitte and Ginger continue to move deeper into the brush. The trees are now larger, and the brush is now giving way to true forest.

* * *

The Hunter arrives at the small clearing we saw the three soldiers in. The clearing is now red from one end to the other, and is filled with limbs, viscera, and scraps of black clothing. The sandy haired man's head is resting in a crook in the tree.

The Hunter drops to a knee and picks up a rifle. He checks the rifle and stands up again. He looks around, as if trying to decide what to do. Then, slinging the rife over his shoulder, he goes back into the brush. ………………………………………………………………………………………………

There are more screams and gunshots.

"That's at least 10 down now," Brigitte says, stopping. They are now standing in what appears to be the main forest.

"No, I count 11, or is that 12?" Ginger says as she puts Henry down. Henry gently rubs his injured arm gratefully. "Jesus, B! How are we going to beat this guy? Those are hard core guys out there and Rowlands is tearing through them like sheep standing in a field. Anyone else in the pack would have been cut to pieces by those guys by now."

"Well, wasn't Rowlands one of 'those guys' _before_ he became a werewolf?" Brigitte asks.

"Yeah, but that's not all of it," Ginger says. "Didn't you see what he did just before he left us? His face _changed_. A _lot_. That kind of change that fast usually only happens the first night of the full moon. He shouldn't have been able to _do_ that."

Brigitte's expression becomes thoughtful.

"You're right," she says. "And Rowlands said something about learning by _smell_."

Once again we experience amplified sound, the way werewolves hear the world.

From a distance, we hear Rowlands' amused voice.

"What _did_ I mean by that?" he asks. "Hmmmmmm. Let's think."

"Jesus," Ginger says. "He's _listening_ to us. Making _fun _of us."

"Doesn't matter," Brigitte says. "That can't be helped and we need to go ahead and think this out. _Smell_. What did he _mean_ learn by _smell_?"

"Was he talking about _his_ smell?" asks Ginger.

"Maybe," says Brigitte. "Was there anything different about the way he smelled? Wait. _**Wait **__a minute_! I think maybe there was."

"What?" Ginger asks.

"What do you notice right after you get the treatment?" Brigitte asks.

"Pulled muscles, mostly," Ginger says.

"Other than that," Brigitte says. "Think _smell_, Ginger."

"Well, it's not exactly smell but I have a funky taste in my mouth." Ginger says. "Sort of like an extra human tang."

"Yeah," says Brigitte. "Me too. And did you smell it on other members of the pack right after they got their treatments?"

Ginger's eyes narrow thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I think maybe I did," she says. "Wait, I _know_ I did."

"How about Rowlands?" Brigitte asks. "Do you _ever_ remember smelling that tang on Rowlands?"

"I _think_ so," Ginger says. "I mean, I don't remember him _without_ it."

"But you weren't scenting for it either," Brigitte says. "You essentially just said that you've never thought about this before."

"No, you're right," Ginger says. "I never thought about it at all."

"Well, I think I've noticed that scent on _all_ of us," Brigitte says. "Strongest when we just get the treatment, weakening over time, but always there. I _still _smell it on you and on me _now_, just not as strong as it was three days ago."

Ginger inhales through her nose.

"Yeah, you're right," Ginger says. "I smell it."

"How about Rowlands?" Brigitte asks. "Do you remember smelling it on Rowlands back there?"

"B," Ginger says. "Rowlands had me _face first in the dirt_. I don't remember smelling much of _anything_."

"Well, Ginger," Brigitte says. "I just got a face full of his hand, and I can tell you, the tang wasn't there. And I don't _ever_ recall smelling it on him."

"So what are you saying, B?" Ginger asks.

"I'm saying that Rowlands isn't taking his own treatment," Brigitte says.

"B, that's just crazy," Ginger says.

Then we hear Rowlands' voice, twice as loud and therefore sounding much closer than before.

"It may be crazy, Ginger," Rowlands says. "But it's also correct. I don't take the treatment. I haven't needed it in _**years**_."

"Jesus," Ginger says. "He's _closer_, B, we need to get moving again. Trade you."

Brigitte hands Ginger the gun, and Brigitte takes her father and puts him over her shoulder. This time he groans.

"Sorry, Dad," Brigitte says.

They then start to jog deeper into the woods.

* * *

"Nash? Carmichael? Mellon?"

Reynolds is talking into his shoulder radio as he follows Chang. Six other men are with them.

The radio crackles and a voice comes over.

"Here," it says.

"Mellon?" Reynolds says. "What's your status?"

"Frankly, sir," Mellon says. "I'm feeling rather sick. I think I'm looking at Carmichael's team. What's left of them anyway. _**Jes**_-"

The radio goes out for a moment, then Mellon comes back on.

"Yeah, it's Carmichael's team," Mellon says.

"How do you know?" Reynolds asks.

"Because I'm looking at Carmichael's head literally sitting _in_ his stomach," Mellon says. "Jesus is _that…_?"

We hear a retching sound, and the radio cuts out briefly again.

"What is it?" Reynolds asks. Chang is coming up next to him.

"His testicles, sir," Mellon says. "Whoever or whatever attacked him put his…"

Chang cuts him off.

"Never mind that, soldier," Chang says. "Get back toThunderbird One. Immediately."

"Yes, sir," Mellon says. "_Thank_ you, sir."

"Reynolds," Chang says. "Call _**all **_of the remaining men back to Thunderbird One. I have reconsidered my earlier decision. We're going to burn them out."

"I don't think so."

Chang whirls to see the Hunter standing, an automatic rifle leveled right at his face. Chang's men all level their rifles at the Hunter.

"If I die, Chris," the Hunter says. "We both go together."

"You think I care about that, Sam?" Chang answers.

"Not particularly, but it would be an awful waste on a day that has seen a lot of waste already," the Hunter says.

"Sam, what are you _doing_ here?" Chang asks.

"I'm with the Fitzgerald sisters," the Hunter says.

"Sam," Chang says. "The Fitzgerald sisters have a very dangerous infection. We have to stop them from getting outside our perimeter."

"I'm sure they're _already_ outside your perimeter," the Hunter says. "Chris, who's in charge here?"

"I am," Chang says. "At least, I am _now_."

"No, I mean whose orders are you following on this?" the Hunter asks.

"I can't answer that, Sam," Chang says.

"You don't have to," the Hunter says. "Call your superior, tell him that I have a proposal for him. A proposal to take out Rowlands and contain the infection."

Chang looks back to the rest of your men.

"Stand down," he says. "I know this guy."

Chang looks at the Hunter.

"You know," he says. "If you shoot me now, we're both going to look very stupid."

Chang takes out his cell phone and punches in a number.

"Yes," Chang says. "Hello. ma'am. I have Sam Hunter, Junior here. Yes, ma'am, General Hunter's son. He says he has a proposal for you. Yes, ma'am. Yes, I am aware of that."

Chang hold the cell phone out to the Hunter.

"She'll hear your proposal," he says.

* * *

Ginger chuckles briefly as they continue to move through the woods.

"Did you hear that?" Ginger asks.

"Yeah, his name is Sam," Brigitte says. "Which is a coincidence, I guess."

"I think it's _destiny_, B," Ginger says.

"And I think you need to shut up, Ginger," Brigitte replies, an amused tone belying the angry words.

"What are you two talking about?" Henry asks, his voice strained.

"It's a sister thing _and_ a wolf thing," Ginger says.

"Yeah," Brigitte says. "You wouldn't understand.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………

We are now in a very large office. We see the back of a chair, and a woman's left hand reach out to a folder. We hear the woman talking, and see a speaker phone is on her desk. A very, very large man, tall and wide, is standing next to the woman's very large desk. He hands her another folder. She opens it.

"No," the woman says. "This one does look good at first glance. She is brilliant and is not encumbered with a conscience. Unfortunately, if you read the psychiatric report she's also delusional. I can't use her, at least yet."

The woman tosses the folder onto the desk. Before the large man closes it, we see Ghost's face in black and white.

"So, Mr. Hunter," the woman asks, turning her attention to the speaker phone. "What are you offering to me?"

The scene switches to the brush and the Hunter. One of the men starts to raise his gun towards the Hunter, but Chang shakes his head and pushes it down. Then he makes the universal _shhhh _gesture by bringing his index finger in front of his mouth.

"I suspect that you have decided Rowlands' program is a liability," the Hunter says.

"Who?" the woman asks. "And what program?"

"Ma'am, I don't have the time to play games," the Hunter says. "Rowlands is _**playing**_ with your men down here. They aren't a serious threat to him."

"So what do you suggest?" the woman asks.

"I suggest that Chang and his men leave the area, and that the Fitzgerald sisters and I take out Rowlands," the Hunter says.

"Why do you assume that two teenaged girls and a former hired killer will be able to succeed where a special forces team has failed?" the woman asks.

"Because Rowlands is _obsessed_ with those girls," the Hunter says. "He will come after them and when he does, they'll have the strength to go against him, and I'll have the training to go against him. Your _best_ chance to stop him is for us to join forces. Furthermore, the Fitzgerald sisters are proposing to go deep into the woods and let their infections take their course. It's almost winter, no one will want to go into the forest then. To be safe, I suspect you have the influence to shut down the right section of forest to the public. Once the sisters transition from werewolf to wolf, they will have no more interest in catching and killing human beings. They will have no interest in humans at all."

The woman takes a deep breath.

"I'll need proof," she says. "Something physical. Something more than a staged cell phone photograph."

"I can get that," the Hunter says.

"And if you fail, I will come after you," the woman says. "I have other resources than men and black helicopters."

"Ma'am," the Hunter says. "If I fail, there will be nothing left of me to 'come after'. Either Rowlands dies, or we do."

"Hand the phone to Chang," the woman says.

Chang takes his cell phone back.

"Yes ma'am," Chang says. "Right away. I'll tell him."

Chang snaps shut his phone and looks at the Hunter.

"She's giving you 20 minutes to finish this," Chang says. "Then we firebomb this place and let God sort it out."

Chang tosses the cell phone to the Hunter.

"When you're done, call the first number on the list and send a picture," Chang says. "The Director told me to remind you that you will have to also bring physical proof of Rowland's death, but the picture will stop the firebombing."

"Understood," the Hunter says.

"Good hunting, Sam," Chang says. "I hope you get him. This whole thing stinks."

Chang turns to his men.

"Everyone back to the helicopter," he says.

* * *

"Did you hear that, B?" Ginger says. She stops. Brigitte puts her father down.

"_I_ heard it," we hear the distant voice of Rowlands say. "Not the most brilliant move on our young Mr. Hunter's part, talking about you joining forces against me when I can hear him, and I am standing between you and him."

"What do we do now, B?" Ginger asks her sister.

"Deferring to your sister, Ginger?" Rowlands says. "This _is_ new."

"Shut up, Rowlands," Ginger says.

"Why don't you come find me and make me, Ginger?" Rowlands says.

"Ginger, shhhh," Brigitte says. "I'm thinking."

We flash back to Brigitte's first visit to Rowlands' and Murphy's lab. We hear Rowlands' voice say:

"_The full moon appears to act as a visual trigger to start a more rapid transformation into a 'werewolf' beast."_

"A _visual _trigger," Brigitte says to herself softly. "That sounds psychological."

"Like a post hypnotic suggestion?" asks Rowlands from a distance.

"That's _it_, isn't it?" Brigitte asks. "That's how you control it."

"What _are_ you two talking about?" Ginger asks.

"Two?" Henry asks. "Brigitte is talking to someone?"

"Yeah," Ginger says. "She's talking to Rowlands."

"That son of a bitch is here?" Henry says.

"Convey my best regards to your father right back," Rowlands says.

"He's a couple of miles away, Dad," Ginger says. "It's slow, because he's so far away it takes awhile for what he says to come to us, and vice versa. But with our hearing, we can talk to each other fine."

"Something in the wolf DNA, it responds to the moonlight, and that's when the change to chrysalis happens," Brigitte says.

"Yes, that appears to be the case," Rowlands says. "It takes about two to two and a half weeks for the lupine DNA to infect the entire person, but once that happens, the next full moon will trigger the change to chrysalis form, unless the person is receiving the treatment. It is during the full moon, you see, that humans most see the world as a wolf would see it. I am assuming that seeing the world in a full moon reminds the wolf of being a wolf, and the change accelerates because of it."

"In other words, kind of a genetic post hypnotic suggestion, just like you said," Brigitte says. "But if you can be convinced to turn into a werewolf because of a post hypnotic suggestion, you should be able to use another post hypnotic suggestion to convince yourself not to change."

"Precisely, or to be more accurate, to convince the wolf it's not time to come out yet," Rowlands says. "Or to come out a little _more_, or a little _less_. I can assume any stage of development this side of the chrysalis, and I can change myself back. It takes a lot of fuel, but I have eaten a lot just now."

"B," Ginger says. "He's moving away from us. I think he's going for the Hunter."

"I am," Roskoff says. "But don't worry, I'll be coming back to see you both soon."

"_Shit_!" says Ginger. "B, I think we need to get moving again. Go deeper to the forest."

"No," says Brigitte. "It's too late for that. He'll catch us easily. Here's where we'll make our stand."

"B," Ginger says. "You heard the man. He's not only stronger than us, he's not only better trained than us, he has complete control over his infection. We wouldn't have a chance. The Hunter seems to do pretty well against werewolves, we've seen him kill three already."

"Rowlands is out of his league," Brigitte says.

"Yeah," says Ginger. "And he's out of ours too."

"Not any more," Brigitte says. "Ginger, stay with Dad."

"What?" Ginger says. "B, are you crazy? What the Hell do you think you're going to do?"

"Save the Hunter," Brigitte says.

Ginger opens her mouth as if to speak, then her mouth drops open in shock.

Our view switches to Brigitte's face as it rapidly morphs, becoming more wolf like with longer, pointed ears, and enlarging teeth moving forward in an emerging snout.

Brigitte's next words are distorted, but still recognizable.

"Hey Rowlands, guess what?" Brigitte says. "It's _on_, bitch."

With that, Brigitte takes off at a lope, moving very fast into the forest.

* * *

The Hunter has moved out of the brush and into the forest proper. He moves in starts and stops, dropping to a knee to look at a broken twig here, a depression that looks like a small part of a footprint there.

"They're part wolf, and yet they have no woodcraft skills," says Rowlands voice from behind the Hunter. The Hunter turns and rolls, bringing the rifle around. But he doesn't complete the movement, the barrel of his rifle is still pointing up. As our perspective moves behind the Hunter so that we are now behind him, looking in the direction he's looking, we see why. Rowlands is standing with a rifle trained right on the Hunter.

"It's really kind of sad, don't you think, how they blunder through the woods so that anyone can track them," Rowlands says. "Put down the rifle, Mr. Hunter. Just to be safe, I think I'm going to shoot you from a distance."

The Hunter shrugs, very slightly and carefully.

"Colonel Rowlands, if you are going to shoot me anyway, why would I put the rifle down?" he asks.

"Good point," says Rowlands. "Why don't you go ahead and try to shoot me?"

The Hunter moves with amazing speed to bring the rifle to his shoulder, even though since Rowlands is already covering him, his efforts are doomed to failure. However, as the Hunter moves the rifle around to bring to bear on Rowlands, we hear rustling, followed by a thud, a grunt, and a gunshot going off simultaneously. The Hunter finishes bringing his rifle to his shoulder before he seems to realize that something is happening. As he raises his head to look at what is happening, we now hear growling and the sounds of a struggle.

Then we see what the Hunter sees. Rowlands and Brigitte are rolling on the ground, both snarling, clawing, and biting. The rifle Rowlands was holding is lying on the ground. The struggle ends as quickly as it began, however, when Rowlands gets one clawed hand under Brigitte's chin. Brigitte's face is enraged and savage, and spittle is flying out of her mouth. As she snarls at him and claws at his arm, shredding the black sleeve of his uniform, Rowlands chuckles.

"Well done, Brigitte," Rowlands says. "You've learned from _smell_, and I can't tell you how very, very proud of you I am for that. None of the others in the pack ever had a _hope_ learning to do what _you_ just have."

He then heaves Brigitte back across the clearing and into the trunk of a tree. Branches fall around her as Brigitte bounces off of the trunk and onto the ground with a pained groan.

Then we see the Hunter, bringing the rifle back to his shoulder, but before he can fire, we hear a whistle and thump as a hiltless knife, twin to the one he used to kill James, is suddenly projecting from the Hunter's upper right arm. His rifle falls to the ground. He falls to his knees.

"We'll have none of that," Rowlands says, pointing to the Hunter. He walks over and picks up the Hunter's rifle and throws it across the clearing, then pulls his knife out of the Hunter's arm. The Hunter doesn't even flinch.

"Now," Rowlands says. "Where were we?"

* * *

"Ginger," Henry says. "Go help your sister."

"I'm sorry, Dad, not now," Ginger says. "B and the Hunter are fighting for their lives, and I'm trying to follow what's happening."

"_Ginger_," Henry says. "Leave me here and go help your sister. Be a _part_ of what's happening. If Rowlands is fighting the Hunter and your sister, _I'm_ relatively safe."

Ginger shakes her head. It is obvious she is still shocked by her sister's recent rapid transformation.

"Oh, yeah," she says. "You're _right_, what the fuck's wrong with me?"

She turns and looks at her father.

"Go deeper in the forest, find a hiding spot, then don't move and stay as quiet as you can. _Someone _will be by for you. Better hope it's me or B."

Ginger then moves off in the same direction her sister went.

* * *

Rowlands, holding his hiltless knife as the Hunter had held his to kill James, draws his hand back.

Then, a large branch hits him on the side of his head with a loud crack. The branch itself breaks in two. Rowlands rolls away and stands up unsteadily. Brigitte is holding the remains of the branch she swung at him. The Hunter stands up unsteadily next to her and from his back pulls out his large hunting knife.

"Well then," Rowlands says. "I think I'll try some easier game. Your sister's on her way, I think I'll go greet her."

And with that, Rowlands turns and runs into the woods.

Brigitte stands holding her shattered branch, looking at the spot where Rowlands had just been standing. The Hunter turns and looks at her, then replaces his knife behind his back. Then he gently takes Brigitte's head, projecting, black nosed snout and all, and kisses her. Brigitte appears to be startled at first, but then her hands go around and move up his back until her fingers take hold of his hair and pull back, gently.

"Sorry, Hunter," Brigitte says. "_Teeth_. I don't want to infect you. Besides, now he's going after Ginger. I need to go help her."

"Sorry," the Hunter says. "I was just really glad to see you. Thanks for saving my skin."

"Sure," Brigitte says. "Thanks for saving mine."

"Go ahead," the Hunter says. "I'll catch up."

As Brigitte runs off, the Hunter walks over and picks up the rifle.

* * *

Ginger is running through the forest. Then, she slows and stops.

"Ginger," Rowlands says, sounding close. "Ginger, how does it feel to be the weak one now?"

"Why don't you come here and find out just how weak I am?" Ginger asks.

"All right," Rowlands says, stepping out from behind a tree in front of her. Ginger suddenly looks very frightened.

"Come on, Ginger," Rowlands says. "I'll even let you take the first shot."

Instead, Ginger turns and runs.

"Huh," Rowlands says to himself. "She's smarter than I thought."

He runs after her.

We see Ginger running, and we hear Brigitte's voice through amplified hearing but at a distance.

"Ginger, _**count**_," Brigitte says.

"_What_?" Ginger asks.

"Count out loud, it will help me find you," Brigitte says. "Stay alive and keep counting and I'll be there by the time you reach 100."

We hear Rowlands voice, from a much closer distance, say:

"Yes, Ginger, count. It will help me to find you as well."

As Ginger runs, breathing slightly hard, she starts to count:

"1...2…3…"

Ginger hurtles a fallen tree and keeps running. Moments later, we see Rowlands hurtle the same log.

"10…11…12…"

We see Rowlands hand reach out, grab a hold of Ginger's red hair, and yank back. Ginger barely keeps her feet, but manages to turn and slam her elbow into Rowlands' distorted, lupine face. Rowlands' head jerks back, but then he chuckles, and throws Ginger to the ground. Ginger rolls to her feet and holds up her hands in a fighting posture.

"Little Ginger, trying to look so brave and tough, when actually you are scared and needy," he says. "Still, I must admit, you showed more potential than the rest of the pack, with the singular exception of your sister, of course. But that really isn't saying much when the competition was an illiterate street thug masquerading as a big city cop, a professor whose sole purpose in life was to manipulate rich young college girls into sleeping with him, and a stripper who went from one abusive relationship to the next. "

"27…28…29…."

"And then there's you," Rowlands continues as he feints towards Ginger, making her jump. "A girl from a conventional suburb who tried to be a rebel, but like so many other suburban girls, was _so_ conventional in her rebellion. I mean, do you have any idea how cliché a _death fetish_ is among girls your age?"

"36…37…38…"

"What?" Rowlands says. "No '_Fuck you_ _Rowlands_'? No '_Shut up and fight_, _asshole_'? None of your customary profanity at _all_?"

"44…45…46…"

"Guess there's nothing more to say, Ginger," Rowlands says. "Give my regards to your mother,"

Rowlands lunges at Ginger, slashing with one clawed hand at her face. Ginger dodges aside, only to be caught by his elbow. Ginger falls to her knees, her face now angry. She stands up, and Rowlands grabs her hair. She elbows him in the face, then turns and kicks him in the stomach. Rowlands stumbles back a couple of steps and smiles.

"59…60…61…"

"Ahhh, Ginger," he says. "You always were a fighter. That's why you moved so quickly past both Danielle and Claude. Even James was not the match for you he thought he was."

"64…65…66…"

Rowlands lunges forward again, but this time when Ginger attempts to dodge, he follows her, slashing her across the face. Ginger tries to hit him with her left fist, but he catches it on his shoulder easily, then head butts her. The sound is a loud and hollow crack, and Ginger falls back stunned. Rowlands' claw marks have left gouges across the left side of her face.

"Too bad, Ginger," Rowlands said. "You couldn't hold out until 100 after all."

Rowlands snarls, and lunges down and forward.

"74…"

And suddenly Brigitte is there, grabbing Rowland's left arm and pulling it back and up. We hear a _**pop!**_ Rowlands screams in pain, and Ginger scrambles out and up from under him.

"Smart guy like you should know to pay attention to where I _**am**_, not where the fucking count is," Brigitte says.

Rowlands tries to bring his other hand up, but Brigitte pulls up with one hand, aggravating the dislocation, while pushing down on his shoulder with the other hand. Rowlands' head is pushed to the ground.

"Let's see how _**you**_ like a face full of dirt!" Brigitte says.

Suddenly, Rowlands turns onto his side, facing Brigitte and pulling her off balance. He reaches up with his good right hand and grabs her ankle, digging his claws into it. Brigitte screams in pain as he throws her over him and scrambles to his feet. Ginger tries to kick him in his face as he gets to his feet but he backs away, and she misses. Ginger circles in the direction of Rowlands' injured arm while Brigitte gets to her feet and circles the other way. Rowlands quickly reaches over, grabs his left arm and pushes it into the socket. He winces slightly, but that's it. Ginger tries to attack him as he is pushing his arm into the socket, but he backs away, and then demonstrates the return to function of his left arm by hitting her across the face with his left fist. She falls to the ground. Brigitte attempts to attack from his right but he moves away again and then leaps up and kicks her in the face. Brigitte also falls to the ground next to Ginger, who isn't moving.

"A little help here, Ginger?" Brigitte says just before Rowlands grabs her hair and pulls her to her feet. He hits her again in the face with his fist. Brigitte falls down again, and Rowlands kicks her under her ear at the jaw line. Brigitte falls onto her back and lays still, gasping for breath.

"_**Magnificent**_ effort, Brigitte!" Rowlands says. "Truly. You've become everything I'd hoped you would become. A true _alpha female_, one _worthy_ to be co-ruler of my little kingdom. Unfortunately, I _have_ no more kingdom, and therefore I _no_ _longer_ have _any_ use for a queen."

Suddenly, Rowlands pauses, tilting his head.

"We have another guest," he says. Then Rowlands reaches for something at his belt, turns, and throws. There is a pained grunt and the Hunter falls into sight, this time with Rowland's hiltless knife in his upper left leg so deep that none of it is sticking out.

"Hey, _Rowlands_," Brigitte says, reaching behind her back under her turtleneck. "Surprise…"

Brigitte's face falls as she evidently does not find what she was reaching for.

Rowlands reaches behind his own back and pulls out the pistol that Ginger had taken from him earlier.

"Oh," he says. "You mean _this_ surprise? Like I said, Brigitte, this was a _**magnificent**_ effort containing several misdirections. But I remain several steps ahead of you, the master of the game. "

"Well, 'master'," Ginger says, her head coming up from the ground. "Here's something you _didn't_ count on."

Rowlands sighs, obviously irritated by an interruption from someone he feels is an inferior to himself and Brigitte. He doesn't even turn to look at Ginger.

"What's that, Ginger?" he says in an exasperated tone as he points the gun at Brigitte's head, preparing to fire.

"_**The class dunce**_ just figured it out," Ginger says. Ginger's hair suddenly starts to change color from red to white, and her own face starts to project, and fur sprouts up along her arms and her fingernails become claws. She leaps up. Rowlands turns to train the gun on her but before he can fire, Brigitte is up and sinking the claws on her right hand into his wrist. The gun falls to the ground. Rowlands backhands Brigitte away from him with his left hand and kicks the gun away into the forest. Ginger chop blocks Rowlands in the knees from behind. As he falls, she slashes him across the face, leaving gouges that match the ones he left on her own face. Rowlands rolls to his back and kicks Ginger in the stomach with both feet. She flies into the air and out of sight into the trees, close to where the gun was kicked. We hear branches break and fall. Brigitte comes up behind Rowlands and bites him on the left shoulder. Rowlands reaches around, grabs her by the hair and pulls her over his shoulder. As she lands in a seated position in front of him, he places her into a rear choke hold. He buries his face into her back, ignoring Brigitte's clawed hands as they dig into his scalp.

Our view switches to the Hunter, who is digging the hiltless knife out of his leg with the large hunting knife. As he finally succeeds in pulling it out, Henry Fitzgerald comes up alongside him.

"What are you doing here?" the Hunter asks, his voice reflecting the considerable pain he must be in.

"If I am going to die today, I want to die with the rest of my family," Henry says.

"Makes sense to me," the Hunter says. "Help me up."

Henry helps the Hunter to his feet. He seems to be barely able to bear weight on his injured leg.

"_Brace _me," the Hunter says. Henry grimaces with effort, and the Hunter throws the knife he just pulled out of himself.

Brigitte seems to be losing consciousness when the knife ends up point down in the dirt right next to her. Brigitte picks up the knife and slams it into Rowlands' right forearm. Rowlands yells in pain and releases his chokehold. Brigitte falls forward and then rolls to her back, gasping for air. Rowlands pulls the knife out and drops to his knee, grabbing Brigitte by the hair and raising up the knife.

He looks at the Hunter.

"Thank you for the assist," he says.

"Rowlands," Brigitte croaks. "Rowlands, do you know what your problem is?"

"That I'm stronger, smarter, and more experienced than you?" he replies.

"No," Brigitte says. "Your problem is that you told me just how far you're willing to go…"

"_I can assume any stage of development this side of the chrysalis, and I can change myself back._"

"…while _I'll_ go _**all the way**_," Brigitte says. As the knife comes down, Brigitte's hand catches his knife hand at the wrist. Suddenly, Brigitte's arm becomes much thicker, developing a covering of black fur. The black sweater she is wearing tears apart. Suddenly, Rowlands is rolled onto his back under Brigitte, who is finishing her transformation into a full, 300 pound werewolf. Brigitte's immense fanged mouth descends. We hear a chomping crunch, and Rowlands begins to scream.

Emerging out of the woods, carrying the broken remains of the pistol Rowlands kicked, is Ginger.

"Holy shit," Ginger says. She then drops to her knees, apparently exhausted.

Rowlands, still holding his knife, slashes it across Brigitte's left foreleg. Brigitte yipes and backs away. Rowlands crab crawls away on his elbows and feet.

"You're_ insane_," he says. "You can't _**turn back**_ from this stage, not without the treatment!"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" says Ginger. "We don't _want_ to turn back."

She starts to transform as well, vomiting blood before her joints and bones crack. As her clothes tear and her body changes shape, we see her turning into an even larger werewolf than Brigitte. One that is white to her sister's black.

Rowlands looks back and forth.

"Fine then," he says. "Let's finish this."

Both the Brigitte and the Ginger werewolves, apparently taking Rowlands at his word, leap on him.

"You know, they ate two full sacks of groceries between them on the way here," the Hunter conversationally says to Henry. We hear the sounds of a terrible canine fight, full of snarling and snapping and clawing and tearing.

"What?" Henry says, obviously not really listening as he watches the spectacle of his daughters turning into full blown monsters.

"_**Food**_," the Hunter says. "_Something_ has to fuel the change, and it doesn't _have_ to be human flesh."

"Right," Henry says, obviously still not listening.

Then he points in the direction of the fight.

"Is _that _supposed to happen?" he asks.

"Henry," the Hunter says. "Everything I've learned about werewolves has gone out the window during the last few minutes. I no longer have _any_ idea concerning what is _supposed_ to happen."

"Something's wrong," Henry says. "I think Rowlands is changing too."

And sure enough, as our view returns to the fight, we see the Ginger beast being flung away, landing on her back and leaving the Brigitte beast to struggle with Rowlands alone. Rowlands too is changing shape, becoming a much larger werewolf than either Brigitte or Ginger. The immense Rowlands beast, weighing perhaps as much as 500 pounds, pins the Brigitte beast under his immense bulk, and then bites down on her throat.

"NO!" Henry and the Hunter cry simultaneously. It is too late, however, the great Rowlands beast has torn out Brigitte's throat.

The Ginger beast has scrambled to her feet. Looking at the Brigitte beast's body, the Ginger beast throws back her head, and howls. Then she attacks. The Rowlands beast meets her half way. A monstrous struggle begins again, with the gigantic Rowlands beast swiftly assuming the advantage, clawing into the Ginger beast's body while tearing great chunks of flesh from her shoulders with his huge teeth and jaws.

Henry is silently weeping as we hear the continued sounds of the struggle. The Hunter forces himself to his feet. Holding his hunting knife in his right hand, he starts to limp towards the struggle, but stumbles to his knees. As he struggles to stand again, he makes a face.

"What's that smell?" Henry asks behind him. "Like dead meat rotting."

The Hunter turns to look at the Brigitte beast's body. The eyes have sunk in, and the lips have receded from the teeth. In fact, the entire body seems to be falling in on itself except for the stomach, which seems to be bloating out.

"No way," the Hunter whispers. "No _**fucking**_ way."

"No way _what_?" Henry asks.

But before the Hunter can answer, the bloated stomach explodes in a shower of gore that ends just in front of the Hunter. Something struggles out of the bloody mess, something on four legs.

The Rowlands beast in his struggle with the Ginger beast clearly has the upper hand. He shoves the Ginger beast to the ground. Both beasts have horrible gouges and bite marks on their bodies, but the Ginger beast's wounds are clearly much more numerous and grievous. The Rowlands beast turns and looks in the direction of the Brigitte beast's body, but there is nothing remaining but a hollowed out mess.

Then comes the growl, a deep and powerful growl, a pure growl coming from a beast that is no longer a hybrid. The Rowlands beast turns to his right, and there, at the edge of a thicker stand of trees, stands a blood covered but still recognizably black wolf, perhaps as large as 130 pounds. The Brigitte wolf growls again, slowly and almost luxuriously, the expression on her snarling face one of supreme confidence.

* * *

The Rowlands beast stares at the Brigitte wolf in shock, obviously stunned by this turn of events. As the Rowlands beast continues to stare at the Brigitte wolf, the Ginger beast rolls over and bites him on his right rear leg, chomping down and holding on. The Rowlands beast yipes and starts to turn towards the Ginger beast, but then stops and turns slowly and faces the Brigitte wolf.

Our view point now shifts so that we are looking through the Brigitte wolf's eyes. We see a very clear and sharp world of blacks, whites, and greys. The sounds are very amplified. We hear the Rowlands beast swallow, and we hear his increasingly rapid heartbeat as his fear escalates. Suddenly, we are moving towards the Rowlands beast so fast that it can barely register.

As our view switches to Henry's and the Hunter's stunned faces, we hear a crunch and a tearing sound, and a cry of pain. When our view switches back to the Rowlands beast, this time in full color, we see that he is now missing his left hand/forepaw. The Brigitte wolf carries the hand/forepaw a short distance, then drops it on the ground. The Rowlands beast is crying now, completely beaten.

Now we see the very clear black and white image of the Rowlands beast again. Suddenly, we are moving very fast towards him, and we hear another tearing sound.

When we see the Rowlands beast in color again, he is missing his left eye and most of the left side of his face.

"Brigitte, _stop_," the Hunter says softly. "You've made your point. You've made him what he _was_. Now _end_ it."

The Brigitte wolf looks briefly at the Hunter and Henry, her expression seeming to soften. Then she turns towards the Rowlands beast, still pinned by the Ginger beast's hold on his right rear leg. He is keening, trying to get away, obviously no longer interested in fighting.

We see the beast through the clear black and white of Brigitte's wolf vision one more time. The Rowlands beast looks back at us, then slowly and painfully, lies down on the ground, and then stretches his head back, offering the Brigitte wolf his throat. Then we move rapidly towards his throat, and we hear the sound of a tearing bite, and things go black.

* * *

We start with an aerial view of the forest. We see hovering in the distance the two large, black helicopters. Then we are back within the forest. The Hunter has just completed a bandage made from his shirt, and had a walking stick made from a large branch. Still, Henry is still helping him to walk as he limps up to the two werewolves lying on the ground. The larger brown one, the Rowlands beast, is obviously dead. The white one, the Ginger beast, raises her head and growls and snaps her huge jaws at the two men. The snap has a loud, hollow sound.

"Don't take it personally," the Hunter says to Henry. "Full blown werewolves tend to be hostile to everyone and everything."

Henry nods.

"I need to take this," the Hunter says as he takes out Chang's cell phone and holds it up. He snaps a picture of the two werewolves. Then he punches a number.

We are now in an indoor swimming pool. We see a rear view of a woman in a black swimsuit and a matching black cap stroke to the side of the pool, where the very large man flips open a cell phone and hands it to her. The woman sees the Hunter's picture of the two werewolves. It's centered on the brown one. The woman hands the phone back to the man.

"Make the call," she says. "Place it with Lt. Reynolds. Captain Chang no longer has his cell phone."

The very large man takes the cell phone and punches in a number.

In the helicopter, Reynolds answers his cell phone.

"It's for you," he says to Captain Chang. Chang takes the phone.

"Yes, sir," he says. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir."

Chang flips the phone shut and hands it to Reynolds. He goes to the front of the helicopter.

"Has the road been evacuated of all civilians?" he asks.

"Yes, sir," the pilot says.

He nods.

"Let's collect our dead, those there's enough left of to collect," Chang says. "Then we'll start a fire."

The Hunter and Henry are back where they were when they were watching the werewolf fight. Both are leaning against the trunk of a tree.

"Where's Brigitte?" Henry asks.

"I don't know," the Hunter says.

"I want to go to her," Henry says. "To Ginger."

"You can't," the Hunter says. "She'll try to kill you."

"She doesn't look very good," Henry says. "She hasn't even tried to stand."

"No," the Hunter agreed. "No, she doesn't."

They look at the Ginger beast. Her breathing is labored and her head rests on the ground, her eyes looking back and forth.

"I can't believe Brigitte _left_ her," Henry says. "Left _us_."

Chang's cell phone rings. The Hunter answers it.

"Hello, Chris," he says. "Yes, thanks for the heads up. Yes, Rowlands is dead, but I can't take any of the credit. The Fitzgerald sisters took him down."

The Hunter flips shut the cell phone.

"That was Captain Chang," he says. "He was giving me the heads up that they are going to firebomb the brush forest in 20 minutes."

"I thought you made a deal with them so that they wouldn't _do_ that," Henry says.

"Oh, they're holding up their end of the bargain, after a fashion," the Hunter says. "They _were_ going to bomb as widely as possible in an effort to get Rowlands and your daughters. If I hadn't sent their director the picture of Rowlands, they would be bombing all of us. As it is, they are giving us time to move out of the way."

The Hunter takes out his hunting knife.

"I'm going to have to take a piece of him, though," the Hunter says. "To provide them with final confirmation."

At that moment, the great, black Brigitte wolf returns. Her belly is now huge, almost distended. She walks in front of the Hunter and Henry, looking at them both, then walks over to the Ginger beast. The Ginger beast raises her head, her breathing more labored, seemingly from excitement. The Ginger beast wags her relatively stumpy tail. The Brigitte wolf's head goes down next to the Ginger beast's head, and her mouth opens.

Then, we hear retching sounds.

"What is she _doing_? Henry asks.

"Brigitte's been feeding," the Hunter says. "Usually werewolves have to eat over about two months before the wolf emerges from the chrysalis. The kind of rapid change from semi-human to werewolf, that's been seen before, although typically on full moons, and not in the middle of the day. But for a chrysalis to bring forth a full blown wolf in a matter of minutes? That's_ completely _unprecedented. I think my grandmother would have said that it was impossible. I _know_ Rowlands thought it was impossible, which is why even in chrysalis form he was so flabbergasted by what Brigitte did. I have no idea how she pulled this off. Her strength of will must simply be_** phenomenal**_, but even so there still had to have been an immense physical cost for the transformation. So right after killing Rowlands, she immediately had to go out and kill and eat something."

"OK," Henry says. "But what is she doing _**now**_?"

"She's feeding Ginger leftovers," the Hunter says.

"Yuck," Henry says.

Indeed, the Ginger beast is eagerly gobbling up the vomitus. Then, after eating, the Ginger beast lays down her head and her breathing becomes more labored. The Brigitte wolf whines in response, then lies down beside her and watches.

"What?" Henry says, leaning forward. "What's happening? Is Ginger dying?"

"It looks like it," the Hunter says grimly.

* * *

We see the helicopters hovering over the brush, and we see the brush erupting into flame in several spots, one after the other. The sun is lower on the horizon.

We see the Hunter and Henry, and we hear the Ginger beast's breathing, now extremely labored.

Then we _see_ the Ginger beast, her head lying down on the ground and her chest moving raggedly up and down. The Brigitte wolf is now standing beside her, nuzzling her face. The Ginger beast, however, does not respond. Not even her eyes move. There is a final, hitched intake of breath, then the Ginger beast stops breathing.

The Brigitte wolf looks down at the now still form of the Ginger beast. Then she throws back her head and howls.

"Dammit," the Hunter says.

"Is that it?" Henry says.

"I guess so," the Hunter says. "Help me up again."

"What?" Henry says.

"I smell smoke, which means the fire is probably moving in this direction. We need to go, and before we go, I need to collect a piece of Rowlands."

"We can't leave Ginger_ here_," Henry says. "And oh God, _**Pam**_ is still back there!"

"Not any more," the Hunter says grimly. "Please help me _up_, Henry."

"Why?" Henry asks.

"Because I have to collect proof that Rowlands is dead, or _I_ will be dead," the Hunter says.

Henry helps the Hunter to his feet.

"Thanks, Henry," the Hunter says. "I can make it from here."

The Hunter limps towards the corpse of the Rowlands beast, pulling out his hunting knife as he does so. Then he stops and makes a face.

"Henry," the Hunter says. "I think I may have good news for you. _**Really**_ good news, in fact."

"What?' Henry asks.

"Ginger _stinks_," the Hunter says. "In fact, she _**really**_ stinks bad, like Brigitte did before…"

The Hunter makes his way to the corpse of the Ginger beast. The Brigitte wolf is now standing and sniffing anxiously at the corpse. As the Hunter approaches, we see that like the Brigitte beast before the wolf emerged, the eyes of the Ginger beast have sunk into the head, and the lips have shrunk from the teeth. The entire body seems to be mummifying, except for the stomach, which seems to be bloating. The Brigitte wolf whines anxiously and begins to gently pull with her teeth at the Ginger beast's stomach. There is a tearing sound. The Hunter looks at the Brigitte wolf, who in turn looks back at him. The Hunter drops painfully to a single knee and begins to help the Brigitte wolf carefully cut and tear open the Ginger beast's stomach. Henry comes up and looks anxiously over their shoulders, making a face at the smell as he does so.

Then, a red blob falls out. It looks like a red, pulsating sac. The Brigitte wolf tears open the sack with her teeth and another wolf falls out. This wolf is smaller than the Brigitte wolf, and in fact does not look full grown, with a skinny body and big feet. Even so, the new wolf looks like she might weigh as much as 90 to 100 pounds.

"_Ginger_," Henry says. "Thank God."

The Hunter is smiling broadly as he turns to Henry.

"I don't think that Ginger's the _big _sister any more," the Hunter says. The Ginger wolf throws up some blood, and then stands up awkwardly. The Brigitte wolf comes up and starts to lick her.

The Hunter awkwardly gets to his feet. Henry comes up beside him and offers a steadying hand.

"I just thought of something," Henry says. "If Brigitte and Ginger can come back as wolves so quickly, what about…"

With that, Henry turns and looks at the corpse of the Rowlands beast.

The Hunter shakes his head.

"I don't think there's a threat there," he says. "If there was, the Brigitte wolf would have been all over it, or the both of them would be backing away from it. Instead, they aren't even paying attention."

"Still," Henry says as he looks at the two wolves, now licking the gore off of one another. The smaller wolf's fur, where the blood has been cleaned off, is white. "Don't you think we should make sure?"

"Yeah," the Hunter says. "I think we should."

The Hunter limps over to the corpse of the Rowlands beast, dropping in front of its stomach. There appears to be no accelerated rotting or mummification with _this_ corpse. Nevertheless, the Hunter takes his hunting knife and plunges it into the Rowlands beast's stomach. Intestines and other viscera fall out, including a small grey sac that looks like a miniature version of the one the Ginger wolf hatched out of. It flops wetly to the ground. The Hunter cuts the sac open, then averts his eyes. The Brigitte wolf has come up behind him and looks over his shoulder. She drops her head and closes her eyes at the sight of the thing in the sac.

"What…what _is_ it?" Henry asks.

"You _don't_ want to know," the Hunter says. He turns to the Brigitte wolf. "You did him a _favor_ by killing him when you did."

"What do you mean?" Henry asks.

"It looks like Rowlands couldn't make up his mind about what he was going to be," the Hunter says. As he speaks, the Hunter reaches down and cuts something off of the thing in the grey sac. Then he lifts it into the air. It looks like a cross between a hand and a paw. It has two fingers off of a human hand, two toes off of a paw, and perhaps one more shapeless blob that couldn't make up its mind to be a toe or a finger. He shows it to Henry.

"The rest looks _**worse**_ than this," the Hunter says. "Rowlands said that no one could turn back from the werewolf stage without his treatment. It looks like he believed it, but tried to 'turn back' anyway."

With that, the Hunter drops the deformed hand/paw into his shirt pocket. The forest starts to become hazy with smoke.

"We need to get out of here," the Hunter says. He turns towards the Brigitte wolf. "Can you guide us out of here?"

The Brigirre wolf chuffs as if answering the question affirmatively. The Ginger wolf, wagging her tail, comes up and nuzzles the Brigitte wolf, then looks back at Henry. She appears to be smiling.

"Lead the way then, ladies," the Hunter says, leaning partially on Henry's good arm. With that, the two men follow the two wolves out of the clearing and into the forest. Our viewpoint, however, lingers on the clearing and the three werewolf bodies. We start to hear the crackling of fire, and soon we see a flickering orange glow, and a flaming branch falls into the frame and onto the Rowlands beast. The fur of the Rowlands beast starts to smoke and then catch fire. The hollowed out bodies of the Ginger and Brigitte beasts catch fire as well. The grey sac next to the Rowlands beast melts away, and just before the contents are consumed by flames, we see something misshapen, but we can't quite make it out.

* * *

It is now night, and the brush forest next to the highway is a smoking ruin. We hear and see large airplanes flying overhead.

Captain Christopher Chang is standing on the highway talking to an RCMP officer, who happens to be the Hunter's cousin Veronica.

"Those are tanker planes," Veronica says.

"I know," Chang says. "I used to be a smoke jumper."

"Really?" Veronica says. "Me too."

She looks at him.

"So are you going to tell me what happened here?" Veronica asks.

"I'm afraid not," Chang says. "Most of it I really don't know anyway, and what I do know you probably wouldn't believe."

"You'd be surprised," Veronica says.

* * *

We see the exterior of a very expensive looking house with floor to roof windows on one side, and these windows glow orange. As we approach the house, we see three young trick or treaters approach the large double front doors of the house, one of them dressed in a Wolverine costume, one dressed like a grim reaper, and another dressed like a princess, except that with the crown and the long dress she also has a plastic sword in her right hand, her trick or treat bag in her left. When the youngsters ring the doorbell, the double doors open, and the kids scream briefly when the very large man answers the door.

"You rang?" he asks in a very passable imitation of Lurch.

"Uh," says one of the kids, the princess in fact. "Trick or treat?"

"Yeah," says little Wolverine. "Trick or treat, bub."

The big man smiles, suddenly looking very friendly and approachable.

"Why certainly," he says.

Upstairs in the house, a little boy of about four runs up, dressed in an Ottawa Senators uniform. Standing with her back to us, but showing a long braid of red hair, is the woman.

"Can we go trick or treating _now_, Mommy?" the little boy says. "_Can_ we?"

"Certainly, Jeffy," the woman says. "But Mommy needs to take this phone call first."

She opens her cell phone.

"Yes, Captain?" she asks. "Make it quick."

We now see Chang amidst charred tree trunks. Temporary lights are on, and somewhere we hear the drone of a generator, as well as the shouts of fire fighters.

"The fire seems to have been successful in cleaning up most of the mess," Chang says. "And we've come across the charred remains of what appear to be three werewolves."

"_Three_?" the woman says. "Are you _sure_ about this?"

"Not absolutely, but they look like werewolves to me," Chang says.

The boy is now walking in a small circle, moving left to right with each step in an exaggerated swagger. With each step he says "trickertreat trickertreat".

"Obtain tissue samples from the corpses," the woman says. "If these are in fact our three remaining wolves, then this is probably for the best. I didn't really trust the Hunter's solution, anyway. Is there any sign of him?"

"No, ma'am," says Chang.

"Pity," says the woman. "By the way, Major?"

"I'm a Captain, ma'am," Chang says.

"Not for long, Major," she says. "And to finish what I was going to say…"

"Sorry, ma'am," Chang says.

"…the _next_ time your men are confronted with someone identifying himself as Sam Hunter, make certain they make a positive ID on Sam Hunter, _**senior**_ before they let him through."

"Yes, ma'am," Chang says. "And thank you, ma'am."

"Happy Halloween, Major," the woman says. She closes her cell phone and turns to her son.

"Time to go, Jeffy," she says.

"Yayyyyyyyyyy!" Jeffy replies.

* * *

It is now morning. The Brigitte and Ginger wolves emerge from a stream. The two wolves shake themselves free of excess water. The Brigitte wolf is jet black, the Ginger wolf is bright white. With a groan, emerging from a hollowed out log, is Henry Fitzgerald. After standing unsteadily, he turns and reaches his good left hand into the log and pulls out the Hunter. The Hunter moves stiffly, and his left leg in particular seems unresponsive.

"Well," the Hunter says. "_That_ was a lousy night's sleep."

"Yeah, it was," Henry says. "Aside from sleeping in a log, I was thinking about how _last_ night I was sleeping in _my house_ next to _my __**wife**_. Now my wife is dead, my house is burned to the ground, and the two children I _thought_ were dead have just turned into _wolves." _

"I'm sorry," the Hunter says.

Henry shrugs.

"The last day of Pam's life, at least when we came up those stairs and we saw Ginger and Brigitte standing there, was probably the happiest. I don't think she ever loved me like she loved them, or for that matter like _I_ loved _her_."

Henry drops to a knee. The Brigitte wolf and the Ginger wolf both approach him, and he ruffles the manes on both of their necks.

"And _you_ two," Henry says. "You're going to be leaving me as well."

Tears start to roll down his cheeks. The Ginger wolf licks them off of his face. Henry chuckles slightly.

"Just…just remember the promise you made me, Ginger," Henry says.

"_Chuff_!" the Ginger wolf responds.

"Good," Henry says. "That really is the _only_ thing I have to look forward to just now."

Henry stands up shakily, and the Hunter kneels down in his place. Both of the wolves approach him, but the Brigitte wolf stands right in front of him, her face scant inches away from his. The Hunter fishes in his front left pocket, and pulls something out.

"I found _**this**_ among the ruins of your clothing, Brigitte," the Hunter says. He's holding the condom Brigitte bought in the gas station. "Were you making _plans_ I didn't know about?"

The Brigitte wolf steps forward and licks him on the face. The Hunter laughs softly.

"I _thought_ so," he says. Then the smile leaves his face. He looks serious and even a little wistful.

"You are a _**remarkable**_ woman, Brigitte," the Hunter says. "You have the will of a _goddess_. If this _was_ for me…"

The Hunter holds up the condom.

"…I can not _tell_ you how _**honored**_ I am."

The Hunter shakes his head sadly.

"Shit," he says. "I finally find the _right woman_, and she's a _dog_."

The Brigitte wolf drops her head and noses it under the Hunter's right arm. Then she looks at his face, then at his arm. She alternates this gaze several times.

At first, the Hunter looks at the Brigitte wolf in confusion. But then there follows a look of comprehension, followed by a look of profound joy.

"_**Yes**_," the Hunter says. "I _accept_ your proposal."

"What?" Henry says.

The Brigitte wolf quickly turns and bites the Hunter on his right forearm. He makes a brief cry of pain, but the look of pain is followed by a huge grin.

"_**Brigitte**_!" Henry says. "Why did you…"

Then a look of comprehension crosses Henry's face as well. He looks at the Hunter.

"You _know_," he says to the Hunter. "It is usually customary to ask the _**father**_ for the daughter's paw in marriage."

Both men then laugh uproariously. We pan away, seeing the two men, the Brigitte wolf in front of them, and the Ginger wolf weaving among them, her tail wagging.

**End Act 6**


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**2 years and 2 months later**

It is night. We are looking at the exterior of a fairly large, although not huge, ranch house in the country. Snow is all around and on the roof. The house is covered with Christmas lights.

We then are _inside_ the house, specifically the living room, approaching a fireplace. Behind the glass doors of the fireplace, we see a roaring fire. We hear the song _It's a Holly, Jolly Christmas_ playing in the background. The mantle of the fireplace is decorated with a green garland. Other than that, the only things on the mantle are four photographs, three on the left side, and one on the right. We continue to approach the fireplace until our view is centered on the three photographs on the left side of the fireplace mantle. Each of the pictures is in a black frame. The center photograph is of Pamela Fitzgerald, who is beaming. The photograph to Pam's left is of Ginger, who is smirking more than smiling. The photograph to Pam's right is of Brigitte, who is scowling and rolling her eyes in her photograph. Our view then moves to the right along the mantle until we come upon the right side photograph. It also is in a black frame. It is a photograph of the late Bailey Downs High School counselor and English teacher, Mr. Wright.

"Henry, dear heart," we hear a woman's voice say. "Remind me why we are going out into the cold again? It's barely 0 degrees out there."

Our view pans back from the fireplace, and we see an attractive woman enter into the living room, in her late forties or early fifties. She is struggling to put on her gloves, and is already bundled up.

"Because it's _fun_, Charlie," We hear Henry's voice say from another room. "Now hurry up."

"Charlie" manages to get her gloves on, and then we follow her through the living room, through a connected den and dining room (which contains among other things the stereo that is playing the music) through a door into a kitchen. At the kitchen is a back sliding door.

"You married a crazy person this time, Charlene," Charlie mutters to herself as she walks through the kitchen and pulls open the sliding glass door. As a blast of cold air hits her, she goes "Eyugh!".

We follow Charlie as she walks on a snow covered patio, with snow covered patio furniture. Her breath mists around her and the snow crunches under her feet. Then, Charlie turns a corner and there, standing out in the middle of an open back yard, is a huge pine tree. The pine tree is well lit with multi-colored Christmas lights, which reflect beautifully off of the snow on the tree. A 15 foot ladder is standing next to the outdoor Christmas tree, and standing next to the tree and the ladder, holding a cardboard box, is a beaming Henry Fitzgerald.

"It's about time you got out here," Henry says. "You are in for a real treat."

"You mean you're going to let me go inside and watch you from there?" Charlie says.

"No, I'm going to let you help decorate the Christmas tree," Henry says.

"Most people have their Christmas trees _inside_, dear heart," Charlie says as Henry takes an ornament out of the box and hands it to her.

"Put the ornament on the tree, dear," Henry says. "And something _wonderful_ will happen."

Charlene sighs, producing a puff of mist as she does so, but she takes the ornament, walks a short distance around the tree, and hangs the ornament.

"And you've been doing this ever since you moved here," Charlie says.

"Yep," Henry says. "This is the third year."

"And _why_ do you do this?" Charlie asks as she goes and picks another ornament out of the box.

Henry, stretching out to put another ornament in the tree from the second step of his ladder, smiles slightly to himself.

"The idea came to me when I was thinking about a conversation I had with Ginger," Henry says. "I just get the feeling that Ginger and Brigitte watch me out here. You know, they both used to love to decorate the Christmas tree, even though they pretended not to."

"Uh _huh_," Charlie says as she puts another ornament on the tree. She then turns to walk around the tree to get another ornament and her eyes go wide. Her breath hitches a bit in fear.

"henry?" she whispers. "_Henry_!

Then we see what Charlie sees. Standing in front of her, just inside the circular multicolored glow created by the reflection of Christmas lights on the snow, are two huge black wolves watching Charlie curiously. We hear Henry's footsteps crunch on the snow as he approaches from behind Charlie.

"Oh," Henry says. "They're _here_."

"What?" Charlie asks. "'_They're_ _here_'?"

Henry steps up so that he is standing next to Charlie. He puts his arm around her.

"Yes, Charlie," Henry says. "They're here. These wolves have been coming to watch me decorate this tree since I moved out here. I call the female _Brigitte_, and the male _Hunter_."

"You named a female wolf after your _daughter_?" Charlie asks.

"Why not, I had to call her something." Henry says. "Now where's _Ginger_? Sometimes she's hard to pick out in the snow."

Henry looks around, then stops, smiles, and gently turns Charlie so that she is looking away from the two black wolves and in the direction he is looking.

"_There_ she is," he says. And sure enough, a huge white wolf is standing just inside the glow a short distance away.

"Uhm, Henry, they're _wolves_," Charlie says. "Don't you think we should be going _inside_?"

"Of course not," Henry says. "They're here to watch me decorate the Christmas tree. Or this year, they're here to watch _us _decorate the Christmas tree. Get another ornament."

"Henry…" Charlie says.

"Go_ ahead_," Henry says. "It's OK. I haven't been eaten yet."

Charlie smiles nervously and picks another ornament out of the box.

"Stay close to me, won't you Henry?" Charlie asks.

"Sure," says Henry. They both walk a short distance, and standing next to one another, hang their ornaments on the tree. Snow shakes off the branches and a little falls on Charlie's head.

"_Gad_," she says as she brushes off the top of her head. Henry turns around and then his eyes open wide.

"_Ginger_," he says. "Did you bring a _guest_?"

Sure enough, standing nervously outside of the reflective glow on the snow is a huge grey, silver, and black wolf, even larger than the other three.

"Is he _yours_, Ginger?" he asks wonderingly.

As if in response, the Ginger wolf chuffs and turns and walks and nuzzles the great grey wolf, who nuzzles her back, but then still hangs back as his white mate returns to her position within the reflective glow.

"He's very handsome," Henry says.

He then reaches out and takes Charlie by the shoulder and draws her to him.

"I imagine that _this_ is a surprise for you as well," he says to the gathered wolves. "This is my new wife, Mrs. Charlene Elizabeth Franklin Wright Fitzgerald. She's the widow to Mr. Wright at the high school."

The two great black wolves walk around the tree and approach the human couple, as if they are interested in getting a better look at Henry's new wife. The white wolf's head goes down, but then she walks towards the couple as well.

Henry drops down to a knee in front of the two black wolves. One of them approaches him and Henry runs his hands through the ruff of hair on her neck.

"Hello, Brigitte," he says. "How are you this fine day?"

The Brigitte wolf nuzzles into Henry.

"Henry, what are you _doing_?" Charlie says. "That's a wild animal who can take your face off. Stand _up_."

At that moment, the white Ginger wolf comes up and nuzzles Charlie's left hand. Charlie squeals and turns to look at the Ginger wolf, her face terrified. But as soon as she sees the Ginger wolf's face, Charlie's expression changes to one of wonderment.

"You…you look so _sad_," Charlie says. "Why do you look so _**sad**_?"

Her fear apparently forgotten, Charlie drops to her own knee and touches the Ginger wolf's face. We see that the expression on the Ginger wolf's face is indeed sad. As the wolf steps forward and lightly licks Charlie's face, Charlie, probably without even realizing it. reaches up and lightly strokes the side of the Ginger wolf's neck.

"Henry," Charlie asks. "Why do you think this wolf-"

"_Ginger_," Henry cuts in.

"-Ginger, looks so sad?" Charlie finishes.

"Maybe she did something she really regrets," Henry says. "Maybe you remind her of whatever it was."

"Well whatever it was, it's _OK_," Charlie says softly to the white wolf. "Do you hear me, it's _OK_."

At that, Henry and the Brigitte wolf exchange a look.

"I know this will sound crazy to you," Henry says. "But I like to imagine that the female wolves are the reincarnations of my daughters."

Charlie smiles, she is now rubbing the Ginger wolf's ruff more and more vigorously. The Ginger wolf still regards Charlie with sad, bright blue eyes.

"I don't think that's crazy at all," Charlie says. "This is _incredible_."

Henry looks at the Brigitte and Hunter wolves.

"I was thinking about naming Ginger's new mate _Patience_," he says to the Brigitte wolf. "Because I think any beau of Ginger's is going to _need_ it."

Both black wolves chuff in response to Henry's words, as if they find them amusing. The Ginger wolf's expression changes to one that looks like annoyance as she turns to look at Henry.

"I think she understood you," Charlie says with a laugh.

"She probably did at that," Henry says.

The Hunter wolf turns and makes a noise that sounds like a bark stifled through his nose. Then he steps aside, to reveal behind him a tiny bundle of black fur.

Henry's eyes go wide.

"Oh my," he says softly. "Oh _**my**_! I assume congratulations to you two are in order?"

In apparent response, the Brigitte wolf goes and noses the little black cub towards Henry. Henry starts to reach towards the black cub, then pulls his hand back slightly, looks at the Brigitte wolf, and says:

"May I?"

The Brigitte wolf responds with an eye roll that is very reminiscent of the human Brigitte.

"I'll take that as a yes," Henry says with a soft chuckle. Then he reaches towards the little cub. The cub immediately rolls on its back and begins to growl playfully.

"You have a _girl_," Henry says with soft excitement. He rubs the cub on her stomach, and she playfully tries to bite his glove.

Henry looks up at the two black wolves.

"Would you mind if I call her _Pam_?" he asks. In response, both the Brigitte and the Hunter wolves step forward to gently lick Henry on the face. Then they both nuzzle him until he falls back on his butt. Henry laughs as the wolf cub now named Pam jumps on him. Our view pans away, where we see that Charlie is still rubbing the fur of the Ginger wolf. As we continue to move back and up we see the lighted tree, and Ginger's big grey mate Patience lying on his side in the snow, calmly watching the family reunion before him. We hear Henry laugh, and a playful growl from the cub. Then, as we continue to move up and away, we see the ranch style house standing at the end of a country road. We start to move away more rapidly. We see the house and the outdoor Christmas tree, and in the upper left hand corner of our frame we see the distant lights of the city of Bailey Downs. To the right in an unbroken line, not too far away from the house, is the darkness of the forest. In the night sky, there is a full moon.

End Credits

**Well, that's it, folks.**

**Happy Holidays.**


End file.
